WEST ON 66

by James H. Cobb

  "Princess—"

  "No!" It was a short, shrill scream of denial. I noticed the tears starting to glint in the corners of her eyes. "Please un­derstand, Kev," she keened softly. "You are the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time. I will not destroy you, and I will not let you destroy yourself for me."

  She caught up my hand. Lifting it to her face, she gently nuzzled it. Now I could feel the cool wetness on her cheeks. "Please don't argue with me," she went on quietly. "I'd like to go put my good dress on now. I'd like you to take me into town and buy me a drink and some dinner. Then I'd like to go dancing for a little while until it gets cooler, and then I'd like to come back to this nice little house so we can make love again and again and again. Like my first time. Please?"

  This was a situation not generally covered in your basic "guy" manual. Hey, we're supposed to be rescuing the damsels in distress, right? What do you do when the damsel looks you in the eye and says that it's her turn to throw herself on the hand grenade for you? Other than feel very, very humbled, that is.

  I caught her hands up in mine. "Okay, we won't argue. But in between all that making love we're going to talk some, too. All right? Just talk."

  I felt her nod. Thing was, I wasn't exactly sure what we'd be talking about. Maybe about an alternative way of dealing with Mace Spanno? Maybe about how two people with $200,000 could disappear beyond the reach of Spanno and the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department both? I didn't know myself.

  As Lisette had requested, we went uptown. Or at least as up as Needles could get. We had that drink and that dinner and that dance, and we took a few minutes more to drive up on the little ridge beyond town to watch a scattering of flying saucer clouds glow in a vivid Mojave sunset.

  Coming down off the hill, I bought a tank of gas for to­morrow and cruised around the streets a little more, just to make sure. No sign of trouble, no sign of Spanno, only a scat­tering of the townies coming out. Like all smart desert dwellers, they wait for the cool after sunset before taking care of their business.

  Driving back to the tourist court, we parked the '57 beside our cabin. There was no hurry and no one around, so we kissed a little in the shadows before going inside to fill out the last event on Lisette's agenda for the evening. She had me laughing at some damn thing as I unlocked the door.

  The cabin lights flashed on, and Mace Spanno was sitting at the kitchenette table.

  There was no chance to try for the Commander. Nate Tem­ple was standing just inside the doorway with his Detective's Special leveled at my head. "There's no odds in being stupid, pal," he said with the first words I'd ever heard him speak. "The show's over."

  There wouldn't be any mistakes this time. These guys weren't small-time country rubes like the Claster clan. They didn't miss my knife, and they used sash cord to tie my arms to the frame of a straight-backed kitchen chair, yanking the knots tight with brutal, casual efficiency.

  Temple sat straddling a second kitchen chair across the room from me, his arms crossed on the back and his .38 snub-nose fixed in his fist like it had grown there. His dark wolf's stare never shifted for a second.

  "Sorry if I make you nervous," I said just to be making the noise.

  "Not nervous," he replied conversationally. "Just bein' care­ful. You've been giving us fits ever since Chicago. No sense in giving you the chance to ass us around anymore."

  Not likely. I'd tested my bonds and they were pulled as tight as the cables on a suspension bridge. I'd have to tear the chair apart to get loose. And that would leave the distance across the room and the gun in Temple's hand. With desert coolers rum­bling in every open window hereabouts he could probably get away with one shot. And one shot would be all he would need. Temple angled the two-inch barrel of his revolver in my direction. "You know, pal, you know your shit." "Thanks."

  "You ever work the gangs?"

  I shook my head. "I can't say I ever had the chance." "That's a waste. That's a real waste. There's a lot of guys I know who could use a really good wheelman." Temple's eyes cut toward the third person in the room. "You know, the kind with brains and balls."

  After we had been nailed, Spanno's wheelman had brought the 300-C up from wherever it had been hidden. Now he sat on the edge of the cabin's worn couch. In spite of the heat, he still had on the old army field jacket he'd worn in the rain outside of the Dixie Trucker's Home. He even looked cold. Likewise, he looked younger, sicker, and more unsure of him­self. Somehow I doubted that Mr. Randy Bannerman had been having a very easy time of it lately.

  "What the hell did you and Mr. Spanno want me to do?" he replied, a strained edge on his voice. "Did you want me to put us under that goddamn train! I thought that was where this crazy son of a bitch was taking us yesterday!"

  "What we wanted you to do was catch this guy!" Temple let the disgust leak into his voice. "We give you the fastest, the goddamn most expensive car in the country, and you can't catch some kid from California in a goddamn Chevy!"

  "He's crazy," Bannerman trailed off weakly.

  "Crazy my ass!" Temple's voice was as cold and smooth as chilled oil. "You know, I think that maybe when we get back to Gary, you're going back to boosting cars again, pal."

  There was a silent implication that a demotion was the least Bannerman had to worry about.

  "Hey, man. You weren't the one driving out there. He was."

  I was as surprised at my words as the two hoods were. I don't know why I said it. I sure as hell didn't owe Bannerman anything. I guess it must have come under the heading of pro­fessional courtesy. Bannerman aimed the briefest of shaky smile in my direction. Then he turned away as if he didn't like look­ing at the ropes.

  The cabin went quiet again, quiet except for the murmur of a voice from behind the closed door of the bedroom. That was where Spanno had taken her. That murmur had been going on for a long time now, heavy, deliberate, and too low for the words to be made out. Just Spanno. I hadn't heard Lisette speak since our capture.

  Then there came another sound, a single soft, agonized whine, like the muffled cry of a wounded animal. Explosively I threw my strength against my ropes, and I swore as nothing yielded.

  "Easy!" Temple snapped, the muzzle of his pistol coming up on me again. "Believe me, pal. You don't want to get loose." Behind him, I could see Bannerman staring at the bedroom door in horrified fascination. He knew what was going on in­side, too.

  "You know, that's some kind of boss you work for," I said lowly.

  "It's his family, pal."

  "Yeah, that's supposed to be his stepdaughter in there!"

  "So?"

  I looked into the gunman's mud-colored eyes, and I found that he meant it. There was no hate there, no remorse, no pride, no guilt, no justification, no revulsion, just "so."

  "So you like somebody getting away with shit like that? You think it's cool, somebody treating some poor damn girl that way?"

  I was probing for a weakness in the enemy line. All I had to work with was my mouth, and the only angle I could think of was to try for an ally in the enemy camp.

  I might as well have tried sticking a needle into a corpse.

  "What the hell is it for me to like or not to like?" Temple replied.

  "Just part of the job, huh, man?"

  "Just part of the job," he agreed. "Hey, you and the girl, you got into it with Mr. Spanno. That's his affair, you know? Me and the punk-ass over there on the couch, we just work for Mr. Spanno. This is nothing personal. It's just business."

  "How about you?" I aimed my words at Bannerman. "Is this the kind of shit you signed up for?" I tried to hold the wheelman's eyes, trying to make him remember that I'd spoken up for him a minute ago.

  His gaze slithered away and focused on a worn place on the carpeting. "Like Temple said, it's no skin off my nose."

  There was another muffled cry from the bedroom, more drawn out, more pain-wracked. Temple glanced toward the sound. "Like I said, pal. It's just business. That's why you should hope that it's
me taking you out when the time comes. Like it'll just be a job so I can promise you it'll be neat, fast, and sweet. Professional."

  . There was a final faint protesting whimper, and even the Aceman frowned a little. "Mr. Spanno, though, sometimes he's not so professional. He can take things personal."

  Bannerman's face had gone gray. "I ... I got to check the car," he mumbled, getting to his feet.

  "Fine." Temple motioned toward the cabin door. "Take a walk around and make sure we're not collecting any nosy neighbors out there."

  The gunner shook his head in disgust as the wheelman escaped from the reality of the cabin. I guess the kid just wasn't a real pro.

  The bedroom door opened a few moments later, and Lisette emerged, stumbling across the room. Clutching at the edge of the little kitchen table, she fought to stay on her feet. I couldn't see any injuries, her dress wasn't even mussed, but she was ghost pale and panting for breath and her eyes were staring and unfocused.

  "Princess," I whispered.

  She looked at me. I hope I never see that kind of bleak, total despair in a human face again.

  Spanno followed Lisette out of the bedroom, and we swapped stares for a long second. What was he feeling now? He had all the chips. He'd won. Was he feeling satisfaction? Pleasure? Was he waiting for me to beg? You'd like to think that your death at least means something to the man who's going to kill you.

  I couldn't read him. There was nothing I could see.

  "Where's Bannerman?" the big man asked flatly.

  "He's out checking on the car, Mr. Spanno," Temple replied like the respectful employee he was.

  "Good. There's no sense in hanging around this hole any longer. Have him bring it around and we'll get out of here."

  "How about . . . ?" Temple gestured in my direction.

  Spanno stared at me coldly for a long second. "We'll dump him in the desert," he said finally. "Use a garrote. I don't want to get blood in the trunk."

  At least I knew my place in the world now. The big man wasn't going to make it personal after all. He had what he wanted, and I was beneath his contempt. His last concern about me was my not making a mess on his carpeting.

  "No!" It was Lisette's voice, or a dry, cracked whisper of it. She pulled herself upright at the table and turned to face the big man. "You don't know where the money is yet. I'm the only one who does. If you kill him, I'll never tell you."

  Spanno took two fast steps forward and grabbed Lisette's arm. Almost casually he tossed her across the room, piling her up with a crash against the kitchenette cabinets. This time I thought I felt the chair frame give a little as I threw myself against it. Nate Temple was behind me in an instant, though, his gun barrel grinding into the base of my neck.

  Spanno towered over Lisette's crumpled form. "You will tell me what I want to know, when I want to know it," he said softly, aiming a finger at her. "And we both know that you will."

  "It won't do you any good, Mace," the girl replied, looking up at him with a ghost of her old defiance. "Even with the money, you won't have it all. You still won't have me."

  "I have you already, Lisette." This time there was a trace of emotion in his voice. God, but it was so out of place, that whisper of a lover.

  "But not the way you want me to be. Not yet."

  She let the words hang in the air. I watched Lisette move, gathering herself in from her awkward sprawl. So carefully she drew her legs under her, letting her skirt ride up her thighs as if it were unintentional, so carefully interweaving sensuality into her pain. She was still fighting, using the only weapons available to her.

  "If you kill Kevin, I'll leave you again, Mace. I swear it. I'll keep trying to run. And if I have to, I'll run to where you can never get me back, just like my mother did."

  She lay curled at the floor at the big man's feet, looking up at him, defiant yet supplicating. "You know I mean it, Mace. You won't be able to keep me away from every high window, or every bottle of sleeping pills, or every piece of broken glass. But if you let him go, I'll make you a promise."

  "What?" You could barely hear the big man's single word over the rumble of the desert coolers.

  All the male ego in me tried to squeeze up into my throat and scream a "No!" across the room. I choked it back down. She was trying to buy us an out with the only currency she had. If I broke the spell she was trying to weave, we'd both be lost.

  "I promise I'll stay with you, Mace," she said, drawing her­self up onto her knees. "No more running away. No leaving. I'll stay with you and I'll be whatever you want me to be for as long as you want."

  There is something so incredibly appalling about watching someone you love bargain her soul away for you. And yeah, now that it was too late for me to say it to her, I was willing to apply that word to Lisette.

  She was drawing him in. Holding him with the dark velvet of her eyes, the pale length of her body. Holding a dream out to the alligator with her bare hand.

  "God, you think I'm crazy?" he said heavily, turning away from her. "He'd have the cops on us two minutes after we turned him loose."

  "He wouldn't!" Lisette scrambled to her feet, catching at Spanno's arm. "I'd make him promise not to! He knows that you'd have me. He knows what you'd do to me if he tried to make trouble. Please, Mace! Father, please!"

  The room, the universe, went silent and still. Lisette clung to the big man's arm, the streak of a single fresh tear down her face marking her new level of debasement. And for Mace Spanno somehow I sensed that this was a victory he'd waited a long time for.

  "Father, please," Lisette repeated. "This is something I could love you for."

  He smiled, and that was something horrible to see.

  "And what about the money?"

  "I'll tell you. I'll take you right to where I think it is. No lies. I swear."

  He brushed Lisette's hand from his arm. "I'll have to think about it."

  Spanno started for the cabin door. "Watch 'em both, Nate," he said without looking back over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared out into the night.

  Temple fell back across the room, moving into a position to cover us both, still just doing his job.

  Lisette took a deep, shuddering breath. Brushing her sweat-soaked bangs out of her eyes, she looked over at me. "Nate, is it all right if I talk to him while Mace is gone?"

  Temple shrugged. "Nobody told me you couldn't. Just don't get too close to the guy; I don't know if Mr. Spanno would like it if I had to lay you out with a gun butt."

  Lisette knelt a couple of feet away on the cabin's threadbare carpet. She studied me for a long time, as if she was trying to imprint me in her memory. "I am so sorry, Kevin," she whis­pered finally.

  "I'm the one who's sorry. I let you down, Princess."

  She smiled sadly. "It wasn't your fault, Sir Galahad. There were just too many dragons. It's my fault for pulling you into this. It wasn't fair. I used you to try and get out of the mess I was in. And now it's only fair that I get you out of the mess you're in. You heard what I told Mace. If he lets you go, you mustn't come after me. You have to let it go, too."

  "How am I supposed to do that?" I demanded.

  "By being realistic. Coming after me or going to the police won't help. Not with him. You'll just make things worse for us both. Let it go. Go back to your own life and let me go back to mine. Treat this whole thing like it's been a nightmare. And the only thing you can do with a nightmare is wake up the next morning and forget about it. Forget about me."

  "The problem is that you're no nightmare, Princess. You were born a sweet dream."

  Her smile strengthened and she even managed to preen just a little. "It wasn't bad for a first time, was it?"

  "The best first time I'll ever have."

  Her smile faded "You've given me so many good things to remember these past few days. That's important now because I'm going someplace where it's going to be very hard for me to remember what 'good' is."

  "Ah, Jesus, Princess!"


  "Remember what I told you, Kev. I will not destroy you, and I will not let you destroy yourself for me."

  Outside we heard the rumble of a big-bore engine. The dim glow of a car's running lights played across the window cur­tains. It was the Chrysler moving up. Something was going on out there.

  Lisette looked over at Temple. "Please, Nate. Only for a second. I won't try anything."

  Across the room, Temple had been studying us with amused cynicism. He shrugged now. "Go ahead, but you better be done before the man gets in here."

  Lisette's lips pressed against mine for one urgent second, and then she was across the room. She was leaning back stoically against the kitchenette counter when Spanno came through the door. She met his gaze levelly.

  The big man nodded slowly and smiled again. "All right. We have a deal."

  I saw Lisette shudder uncontrollably for an instant, but then she drew herself up. "I've talked to him already. He won't make any trouble. I won't either as long as you leave him alone."

  "Good." Spanno nodded again. He reached out with that big paw of his, lightly running his hand over her bare shoulder. "That's good. I'm glad you're being sensible about this, Li­sette. It will be better this time. I promise."

  She nodded. I don't think she trusted herself to speak.

  "Now, where is the money hidden?"

  "Not yet. Not until we're away from here and I know that Kevin's safe. Then I'll tell you where it is. All you need to know now is that we'll be going farther west."

  Spanno frowned and shot a hard look in my direction. He didn't like being reminded about me. And I suspect he liked Lisette's display of concern even less. But then he smiled once more. "All right," he said. "I guess if a man can't trust his own daughter, who can he trust?"

  Damn, how he enjoyed that grotesque little joke. With his arm around Lisette's unwilling shoulder he steered her over in front of my chair, showing her off to me, rubbing my nose in the fact that he had the claim now.