North of the Rock

by Ian Jones

  But where was Cane?

  Abel tried to put the thought out of his mind. Now was not the time.

  Graciously he accepted the wine poured into his glass by a waiter, and laughed at something inane Miranda said. Barlow caught his eye and tilted his head. Everything was going to plan. There was no need to worry.

  They ate at the diner. It was no surprise, but John had only ever eaten breakfast there before. They deliberately talked about nothing, Gilbey with some short stories about his military career and John chipped in with a couple too, but Gilbey’s were funnier and more interesting. Carrie brought coffee and looked after them.

  But it felt strange, like there was some big, wide, vast unknown in front of them. Something black, implacable. Anything could happen, and nobody was invincible. Of course, it could well be that the pair of them would just end up lying in the dirt for a few hours and see nobody, that was entirely possible, in fact highly likely. They had seen it for themselves, there was nothing at Brown’s at all that indicated any kind of wrong doing, only an unexplained fence and a storage building, that were most likely completely innocent. Gilbey had asked around once they were in the diner, most of the people eating in there at this time were working men, and he appeared to know a lot of them. It seemed like the fence went up over three years previously, but there was not one person who knew why or anything about the storage building, and the truth was nobody was really that interested either. Gray Rock had seen nothing other than constant construction for over ten years, no big deal at all, what else was new?

  They ate a big meal, John had a burger and apple pie after. Gilbey had a burger too and ice cream. John studied his companion. A big, strong man. In great shape. Seventy-two years old. Amazing. Craggy face, sharp blue eyes, constantly watching, always checking everything and everyone out.

  When they finished eating Gilbey suggested John should change. John agreed, he had some black jeans and a dark t-shirt at the hotel. They left the diner and Gilbey dropped him off just after seven. He patted John on the arm.

  ‘I got some things to do. Be ready for eight-thirty,’ he said and drove off.

  The lobby was empty apart from the same man from the previous night behind the desk. John went up to his room and called Patrick, who was still in San Antonio.

  So far Cane had not said very much at all, other than nobody other than him really knew what was going on down in Gray Rock. He had wept frequently, and refused food. He was broken, he despised himself. He had been put under guard in a hotel room in the city, away from anywhere. John talked Patrick through what they had found at Brown’s, and their plans, and that that was all they had. As he spoke he realised just how lame it all sounded, they had no specifics, no facts, just a vague idea about an old oilfield based upon a name, and a mysterious fence. But all he could do was relay exactly how he knew it and what they were planning to do.

  Patrick didn’t say much, John knew what he was thinking, he would probably have felt the same if he was the one listening on the other end of the phone.

  Nothing other than speculation. A long shot. Hopeless.

  He hung up and lay on the bed, thinking.

  Everything hung together so loosely, it was impossible to see any endgame in this. They needed Cane to talk and to answer some questions, and possibly that would come in time. If he was kept away from Barlow, Abel and Gray Rock maybe that could help it along, but it was a waiting game. They had to help him to feel safe, he had looked unhappy when John had first laid eyes on him. And Cane had said it’s worse than anyone knew. Worse how? What did that mean?

  Whatever way he looked at it, there was definitely something rotten here. The reaction to him just arriving in the town in the first place, and the fact that they had known he was going to be visiting and appeared to be so concerned about it was all wrong from the start; John had never heard of Abel, Barlow or Cane. They had meant nothing to him at all, and Patrick hadn’t been aware of them either. They were obviously worried about something being discovered, they really wanted him gone. And Collis had said something was going on, all the reports he was about to be freed were nothing other than a smokescreen. So surely him being at Gray Rock should have been an irrelevance, which just backed up the clear and obvious fact that he was not wanted.

  And, they had killed Rita.

  Why would they do that? Why murder an innocent young woman? To scare him? That had to be the reason, they must have known he wouldn’t be charged with the murder. Or maybe not, maybe they had believed it was enough. Circumstantial for sure, but he was an unknown. They had to have believed he would be tied up and out the way for a significant time. Possibly they had been about to ‘find’ more evidence against him. Good luck with that if they had been planning on trusting that idiotic sheriff.

  His phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts. It was Patrick, calling him back.

  ‘Ok John, here’s what I’m going to do. I understand that tonight may be a big old waste of time. But I got to say, we are working through things here. It does kinda feel like we’re playing catch up, but I’m not comfortable with you running around in the wilds tonight not knowing what might happen. I got you into this in the first place. I know you got Gilbey, but still.’

  ‘What are you saying Patrick? Don’t tell me not to do anything. I’m not put together that way.’

  ‘I know that, and there’s no point in me telling you to be careful neither.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I’ve got a team and we are on our way. We’ll set up someplace down in the south, out the way. You holler and I’ll be there. As quick as I can. It’s the least I can do.’

  John considered. There was probably not a lot of point in suggesting otherwise. He had hoped to keep Patrick, in fact the FBI clear until the facts were better known. But in his experience, there was always a bigger picture.

  ‘Right. Well, I can’t argue with you on this, but I know how this looks; a big old waste of everyone’s time. Ok then Patrick, I’ll call you.’

  ‘Yeah, stay in touch, let me know when you are setup.’

  ‘I will, that is if I even get a signal all the way out there.’

  Silence for a couple of seconds.

  ‘Good point. I hadn’t thought of that. Well, if that looks like the case get to where there is one and let me know, I’ll reconsider the options.’

  They ended the call, and John walked over and stared out the window. It got dark fast around here, almost like a switch was suddenly flicked. He could see the rock, and beyond that the south side. He was looking at the rear of the buildings in the main street over there and could see nobody out at all, but he knew there was life on the other side. Despite everything that had been done in Gray Rock, and to them, they carried on regardless. They didn’t look elsewhere for help. But he would do whatever he could.

  He lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep, just rest. Then he had a thought, he had completely forgotten about the handguns he had hidden at the motel. He jumped up and left the hotel, then jogged down the high street to the road opposite the diner. He turned left and ran up to the motel. There was nobody around, two cars in the car park. Lights on in one room on the first floor. The young guy with the glasses was alone in the office. John moved around the side to under the landing below what had been previously his room, and reached up next to the lamp that shone there.

  Both Berettas were still there, cold. The search the PD had done hadn’t discovered them. Happier now, John shoved them into his jeans then headed back to the Radisson and got changed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gilbey showed up right on time. John was waiting outside the hotel, and watched the truck as it approached and pulled in. Gilbey was looking very serious, and was wearing a black sweatshirt and trousers.

  ‘Let’s go to work,’ he said and pulled out.

  They headed back into the south side again, which as John had anticipated had plenty of people moving around. He wondered what the three wise m
en must think if they ever ventured over here, the comparison to the north side was poles apart. Here, people were going about their business. He could see them walking around, talking, laughing. They had a lot less than half of what their neighbours to the north possessed, but here they were living.

  They followed the route through the town, and passed through the desolate area and onto the road that weaved its way south and east, then over the fake bridge and right at the crossroads. It all looked very different in the dark, the truck’s headlights shone a long way into the distance but the landscape to the sides was like outer space as they travelled along.

  Once they arrived at the long straight Gilbey drove steadily along; not fast, not slow, just another pick-up truck in the wilds of West Texas, could be a rancher heading to a bar or a cowboy on the way home from one. It seemed to take a long time but eventually they reached the fence. They passed the gates and were pleased to see it was still locked up tight. Gilbey continued on, way past the end of the fence and then turned around one hundred and eighty degrees and hid the truck behind a high ridge not far from the road. John checked his phone and was surprised to see he had a signal.

  They got out. It was very dark, what little light there was shone only from the stars and a quarter moon that occasionally flickered through fast moving thick clouds. Gilbey produced a torch and climbed into the truck bed, John got up next to him. There was a low, wide tool box right behind the cab. Gilbey opened it with his foot and shone the torch inside.

  So that explains his things he had to do.

  Inside the box were two SA80 A2 assault rifles, not new but well maintained, plus an old M40 sniper rifle, and several boxes of ammo for both weapons. John could smell the gun oil. Gilbey lifted out the assault rifles and handed them over to John. It was like being back with an old friend, this was a weapon he knew well. Gilbey passed out a couple of boxes of 5.56 ammo to John and then lifted out the M40 and a carton of 7.62 bullets. He closed the tool box lid quietly and switched off the torch.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  They jumped from the truck and walked back up the road. Without the headlights, it was very difficult to make anything out at all, they just had to trust their night vision, which improved as they made their way along, until they could make out vague shapes and the road, such as it was, as a pale stripe. Eventually, they arrived at the fence and moved over right next to it, carrying on toward the gates.

  Both men were straining to see, waiting for headlights to suddenly appear, but there was nothing, just an eerie silence that was broken by their own crunching footsteps and the occasional rustle from a wild animal out in the scrub. The wind was picking up, what had been a moderate breeze was turning into sharp gusts which blew straight across into their faces.

  Gilbey tripped and swore softly, and immediately after John did exactly the same. They didn’t want to risk using the torch just in case there was someone out there watching.

  They reached the gates, and had some good news. The wind changing was moving the clouds even faster and the moon broke through so immediately the area became lighter, the padlock reflecting clearly. John undid it and pushed the gate open. They walked through and with some difficulty reaching through the gate John was able to lock it back up again.

  ‘That’s gonna be a bugger if we have to let ourselves out later,’ he whispered.

  They turned and looked into the compound. With the moon shining they could see a lot more, so hustled down the track making full use of it before it disappeared again, which it did when they were about halfway to the building.

  ‘Shit,’ Gilbey murmured.

  ‘We’re ok,’ John replied optimistically. ‘We just need to keep exactly straight. We should be able to see it in about ten minutes.’

  They carried on, John counting off the seconds in his head. He got to six hundred, then seven, but there was no sign of the building.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he commented quietly.

  They stood still and turned around slowly, willing themselves to see. Then Gilbey thumped him on the arm and physically moved him.

  ‘Look up.’

  John did, and high above and behind them he could see the dim reflection back from the spotlights. They had walked right past the building. The made their way back, and then walked around the front and down to the rocks they had spotted earlier, making a camp behind them.

  ‘I was gonna bring night vision goggles, but they aren’t always a whole lot of help,’ Gilbey said.

  John agreed, they could be really useful, but when the action started everything could get very confused very quickly.

  John dug out his mobile phone, and cupped his hand over the display and woke it up. To his amazement he could see he had two bars of signal. He called Patrick, clamping the phone hard against his head to minimise the blue glow.

  ‘Patrick? It’s me. Checking in, we’re in place, and I’ve got a signal.’

  ‘Right, that’s good. Stay in touch, we will be close by real soon.’

  They sat there, sheltered from the wind, waiting, then the moon came out again, and they used the time they had when they could see to check the guns over. John produced the Berettas and handed one over, Gilbey nodded approvingly and both men worked a round into the chamber. Then they laid the guns down in front of them, going back to their training days, familiarising themselves with their surroundings by touch and placing them exactly where they could be found in the dark. Gilbey put down the M40 in the centre between the two men.

  They sat still, watching, waiting, listening. John checked his watch, just past nine. Cane had said eleven, so there was a long time of doing nothing in front of them, and probably for no result. Sitting there, John suddenly felt ridiculous. Why would anyone come all the way out here at night by choice? There was nothing there, the place was only really one level up from the surrounding desert. The building was just a store room, with a digger in it, and a few tools which were used by builders everywhere. No mystery. And whichever way he looked at it, despite the other man’s protestations he had dragged Gilbey into this, there was no tangible proof at all that Barlow and Abel were involved in Rita’s murder. Everything was purely circumstantial. In fact, he had reacted exactly as he always did, act first, think later. He shook his head. He was getting too old for this.

  ‘Well, at least it’s not cold,’ he said ruefully, feeling like he should say something.

  ‘Yep, that’s true. It ain’t no thing. Hey I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve spent doing this crap. You wouldn’t believe it. But I bet you can say the same.’

  ‘Oh yeah. All over the fucking place. I’ve spent days in the snow, and in the desert. Even in water. I’ve got kinda good at hanging around doing nothing.’

  ‘And me. You know, I was just a boy when I went to ’Nam. Seventeen. Ten weeks short of my eighteenth birthday.’

  ‘Seventeen? Really? Jesus, that is way too young.’

  ‘Well, it’s no secret now we were in the shit. We just didn’t know it at the time. 1969. Life in the US Marine Corps. You know how they say on TV all that “God, Corps, Country,” crap, well I never said that. Hell, I never even heard it apart from lifer assholes. But there is some truth, because it is about your unit, and you get that right from the start. Where your unit go, you go. If your unit fight, you fight. So I never thought about it. I was a kid, on my own, with a whole bunch of others training. Basic ended, I did pretty well doing that shit I have to say, then next thing I’m on a plane. I never flew before, never left the country. But seventeen, and out in the jungle in the middle of the night having no idea what the hell you are doing with an M16 and a bunch of guys who are older but just as scared as you are, that kinda makes you grow up fast you know.’

  ‘It always seems to me that the world never learnt any lessons from Vietnam.’

  ‘You got that right. We spent all those years running around kicking ass, and then it happened to us. Look, the guys on the ground didn’t lose that war, it was way bigger than that. The whole
thing was a fuck up. You ask any Vietnam Vet and they’ll tell you the same, and they will also tell you what we should have been doing. Most are gonna tell you we shouldn’t have been there in the first place. But it was a long time ago, and you would think that the politicians by now would know their history and never want to go back there again.’

  ‘I went to Vietnam a few years ago. Beautiful country.’

  ‘It sure is. I went back, 1990 I think. We had some ordinance there, a bunch of us went out and collected it and got rid of it. All part of the process, we’re all friends now. It’s China we’re scared of these days.’

  ‘Always somebody.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  They sat in companionable silence for a while, each man lost in their own thoughts, memories of other times. John snapped back to the present.

  ‘Do you think anyone will actually show here tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know. Stranger things have happened. But I know what you’re thinking, and yeah, it’s unlikely. But we had to do this, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I think we did. Thanks Gilbey.’

  ‘It wasn’t right what happened to Rita, she was a good kid. Her mom is a fucking disaster area, local beauty queen, she always believed she was better than everyone else. Got knocked up at nineteen years old, life did not turn out for that lady like she expected. Married the wrong guy, and he ended up paying for it. She had a whole string of affairs, it was a big old mess. But her dad, he was a good man. He stuck with it for Rita. Anyone else would have hightailed it right outta there.’

  ‘Yeah Rita really loved him, that’s for sure. She told me all about him.’

  John sighed.

  ‘Just don’t keep blaming yourself. You know what happened to her, it weren’t your fault. These fucking guys don’t give a shit about anyone, don’t care who gets hurt as long as they get their way,’ Gilbey told him.

  They sat there, quietly talking, John feeling strangely comfortable. Then, at almost exactly eleven o’clock headlights came into view. Far away, no sign of the vehicle, but the lights shining clearly and getting brighter. Gilbey stood up and leaned on the rock and John joined him, staring out through the fence toward the road.