Alpha nodded agreement. "You're probably right, but suppose you are not, pardner?" He touched a hinge on his sturdy back door and stopped. "Someone has broken in, and they did it carefully. See how the hinge pins have been ground away?"
Bravo said, "Holy Hell. You're right. Maybe we had better just get up to the mine, and make that our headquarters."
"Our headquarters? You'll be gone before noon tomorrow. You've got no choice, your sheriff wants you, Bravo. Go see him and don't make waves. The less anyone thinks about you or me, the better off we will be.
"Anyway, I figure to live here. Not in that hole in the ground. The mine is my backup. This is where I'll look most vulnerable, but I won't be." Byrne frowned in regret. "I wish I had run that outhouse tunnel right into the cellar. I could use another way out of here."
Bravo was impatient. "If we are going in, let's go. It will be better than standing out here on the porch where a dozen machine gunners could be aiming at us. If Christus doesn't blow us up within the next hour we can make sure there are no bombs or traps. Then we can figure how I am going to satisfy the sheriff, and you can make big announcements about being back so that those border ruffians, probably holed up in your local motel, will head right up this way."
Bravo's grin was strained. "You know, Byrne, this is typical of your planning. We go in, trusting to luck and maybe some straight shooting. I'm glad I won't be here when the Christus Army comes for you. Hell, I'll bet he has a full platoon all decked out with RPGs and flamethrowers to back his machine guns.
"What'll you have? Let's see, an M3 submachine gun and a scoped rifle or two." He stared wide-eyed at Alpha. "My God, Byrne, you've suckered them in again."
Chapter 27
Hayzoo Christus did not hurry. The doctor's return had been inevitable. The only question had been when. So, now the wait was over. They would kill Byrne and go home. The second man? If he were present he would accompany the late doctor.
There would be no pitched battle. They would simply shoot, mutilate or the load bodies, and depart. Americans were soft and unprepared for personal attacks. Most despised weapons, and the bad things that they heard about happened to someone else—usually someone who lived in a distant city and stayed out late at night.
In Idaho? Well, it was true that in the great northwest many men carried pistols and were capable of using them, but a rural doctor of too many years? Christus experienced no qualms. He planned on making the shooting close and very quick. Even a skilled gun carrier would have no warning—and therefore no chance.
Christus decided that he would strike in midmorning when dangers would seem least likely. The house or the yard would be best. No one else would be about, and Pasco had suggested they simply use the doctor's pickup and trailer to swiftly and unobtrusively leave the area.
Christus thought that was clear thinking . . . and the pickup would provide useful travel for a single day before dumping everything. If abandoned on a city's mean streets, the valuable vehicles would disappear. The Christus team would wear gloves and leave no traces. There was safety in the absent doctor never being seen again.
Christus pondered, weighing the importance of the Colombian necktie. Would simple removal of the dead satisfy his oath and sense of completeness? He would decide later.
By morning, he would have his men in place, and their tasks would be understood. Before noon, they would be finished and gone.
He dispatched his messenger, Raul, to inform Pasco, the watcher, that together they must remain alert through the night, and that he, Christus, and Jose, the one-ear, would join them at first light. If the morning was calm, and if others did not appear, they would strike.
— — —
Two hours were consumed by searching before Byrne declared his home free of bombs and traps. Byrne groused over the evidence of careful and thorough invasion of the house during his absence. Byrne was methodical, and he found household items differently placed—and someone had taken three of his six-pack of Hershey bars from his refrigerator.
Bravo shrugged off the candy theft. "That proves that we aren't dealing with professionals, Alpha. No experienced house-tosser would steal Hershey bars." Bravo smirked to himself, "York Peppermint Patties, maybe, but your Hersheys didn't even have almonds in them. Amateurs, Alpha, we're dealing with amateurs."
Bravo scratched at his head, "How can you just drive off and leave your home untended for months, anyway? Every time I ask you explain how this is Idaho, and people live like Americans are supposed to. What if vandals savaged the place, or even a minor thing like your electricity went out? You'd come home to discover a mess. Hell, on the west coast some hippy types would move into and live in an unclaimed house like this. After a month or so, they would believe they owned it." Bravo snickered aloud, "And the hell of it is some liberal judge would probably rule that they were right."
Byrne said, "This is Idaho, Shepard, and honest people live up here. Only a pinko, socialist welfare-sucking puke from California or maybe Oregon would think like you do. See for yourself, the place is immaculate—even with an assassin, maybe a whole team lurking about. They don't even dare to be seen."
Byrne dropped it. "Let's eat supper. After dark we might want to stand watches. It wouldn't be best to have some bozo creep in and plant about four big packs of bad-assed explosive against the sides of the house while we are watching TV."
Bravo did not buy the concept. "Alpha, if Christus was a bomber, we would have already discovered it the hard way. He was a Mexican guerilla fighter, and that Santos lady claimed he lived in the city and was an MS-13 soldier. That means knives, machetes, and pistols. Maybe a rifle or two and a shotgun because we are out in the country, but my guess is that he'll want to get in close and personal."
"Bravo touched his hip. I'll be carrying, like always, and you'd better have something quicker than an ankle holster or a hip pocket."
Byrne thought about it. "I might slip up to the cave and dig out some better gear and a few special guns."
Shepard delayed both subjects. "I'm for eating, but let's not have eggs and bacon again. I'm sick of getting those every time you light up a stove.
"And, Alpha, we shouldn't go near that cave until we are ready to fight or hide in there. If Christus has this place watched, and common sense claims he would, we don't want him even thinking about the mine—until we want him thinking about the mine."
Byrne got out his eggs and bacon, and a loaf of Wonder Bread purchased on the way in.
"I understand what you are saying, Shepard, but, God, you plan weird sentences."
He broke eggs and said, "We're having fried eggs. If you don't want 'em eat a lot of toast. This isn't the Ritz Plaza.
"Furthermore, what I would bring down from the cave would be night vision goggles and my rifle with the UNS night sight. If there are guys lurking out there that have night vision and we don't? It could get tough."
Bravo yawned, "Nobody is coming tonight, Alpha. Relax—and I'll have my eggs over hard. I hate runny eggs."
— — —
It was morning. The sun shown in a cloudless Idaho sky, and soon would be the right time. Jesus Christus repeated his plan so that there would be no mistakes. It was a simple plan, of course. He dealt with simple men, and unnecessarily clever schemes resulted in errors.
Christus said, "We know that two men are inside the house because we have watched them stepping in and out. They do not appear to be planning a departure, but we will move now while they are still planning their day.
"Esteban, you will not be here to see. You will take your car and go to work at the clinic as usual. Unless we fail."
Christus allowed a smirk to demonstrate the improbability of such a happening.
"You will not hear from or see us again. When the air turns cold, you will explain that you must return to warmer weather. Leave your job, and I will complete your payment to your mother at her home when you arrive there."
"That should be clear enough," and Christus waved a disa
ppointed Esteban away. He would wait at his old car until the others joined him. The less Esteban knew about what was to happen, the less he could repeat—to anyone. Men drank and enjoyed women. Men also bragged to gain importance. Esteban would have seen nothing, and only he, Christus, knew all last names and probable addresses of the team.
The leader and planner turned to his remaining men. "When I have told you what to do, you will repeat nothing to Esteban. He is to know nothing because he will remain here for many weeks, and he will be known to many. Who knows what information even he could leak?" His men understood that kind of logic.
Christus paused to add importance and weight to his words. "I have chosen Pasco and Raul to kill the doctor and his companion." Stiff nods and cold smiles greeted his announcement. "Esteban will drop you along the highway. You will carry your blanket rolls and your tools. Your claim will be workmen looking for employment. You will have your pistolas at your waists."
It was time for a weapons check. "What will you use, Pasco?"
"Mine will be my Taurus 9 mm, Hayzoo. At short ranges I never miss."
Christus was not appreciative. "I do not like semi-automatic pistols. They fail to shoot too often."
"Mine never fails, Jefe. It is well oiled, and I always use the same clip. It is loaded with hollow points of great power."
"And you, Raul?"
"I, too, have a 9 mm, but mine is a fine Smith and Wesson, Hayzoo, and you know that they always shoot."
Christus knew no such thing, but they should use guns they were comfortable with, and surely both weapons would not fail at once. He still preferred revolvers, which were certain to shoot every time the trigger was pulled. He had seen times when—well, they had what they had, and it would do.
"Have your pistols cocked and do not use the safeties. This shooting will be close and fast.
"Together, you will walk to the front of the house. Do not step onto the porch. Remove your hats. Call in a courteous manner from the porch edge. Someone, perhaps both men will come to the door. Use your best English. Ask for work, yard work, wood chopping, even house cleaning. Remember that you are legally in this country, and you can show your papers to prove it.
"As one of them answers your words, do not wait! Shoot him. Hold low on his body, and each of you shoot him twice. If the second man is there as well, shoot only the man in front of you and leave the second for your companion.
"If only one man appears, shoot him and leap into the house. Do not hesitate. Safety and success will be found in speed. The first man will be dead from four bullets. So the instant you see the second man, you may empty your weapons into him. Again hold low on the body because you will tend to shoot a little high. Take your time and make every bullet a hit."
Christus could see the eagerness in his men. He had chosen well. These soldiers would not hesitate. He announced added support.
"I will be hidden in the brush further out where I can rake the porch with my rifle. If you are slow to shoot, I will not wait. I will take the shots, but I do not want that to happen. The task is yours. Do it swiftly."
Frowning, Christus said, "Jose, of one ear, will be with me. With his tattoos showing on his neck and missing an ear he would not inspire trust. He will lay beside me, but he will watch the back in case the men flee at your approach." Christus again frowned. "I cannot imagine that happening, but we must leave no paths unprotected. If a man tries to slip away, Jose will tell me, and I will shoot him before he takes five steps."
In case they needed one, Christus added a re-assembly point at Pasco's usual lookout. He expected that when the fast shooting ended, they would simply go to the house and load the bodies.
He hoped both men would come onto the porch. They could clean away any obvious blood most easily out there. In fact, a lawn hose was handily curled on the front porch. Thoughtful, Christus concluded.
Inside cleaning might take time, but the less obvious the signs of violence were, the slower pursuit would be. With some good fortune, there never would be a search. The doctor, it might be decided, just never came back.
— — —
Bravo had slept heavily, but Alpha had risen many times to peer from his high windows and to listen at both windows and doors. He saw and heard nothing, but the interrupted sleep left him irritable with a sense of valuable time wasted.
With daylight, he had grown increasingly impatient. He longed to seize his .338 Lapua and position himself near the sniper's hide on the ridge.
If he had to wait for a bad guy to come to him, he wanted to be in position to do something. His house was not a fort, and it sat at the bottom of a large bowl of surrounding hills. Exactly not the place to hole up, Byrne was certain. Which was why he had the outhouse escape tunnel.
Byrne rattled pans and turned up his radio. What he would do was get Shepard on the road to Spokane. There he could catch a plane to the coast. He could take the pickup and leave it at the airport until he returned.
Alpha figured that they should dispose of the truck. It had served them well, but he could not pass himself off in this area as anyone except Doctor Don Byrne, who did not own such a vehicle. Perhaps he should loosen up a little and drive a fine Mercedes like Charlie had.
Charlie—they would have to think more about Dewey Lavender, but Hayzoo Christus had to come first.
He could also think about the trailer. That kind of camper was everywhere, and nobody ever asked who actually owned one or where he had gotten it.
Still, he had a few dollars—Byrne grinned to himself. He should dump the trailer and buy exactly what he wanted—if he even wanted such a vehicle.
Then there was the dead team's green car. It was parked in the cave, but the bad guys had been there, too. Byrne didn't need to look. Hayzoo would not have missed examining the mine. God, maybe Christus was holed up inside the mine waiting for him! He was just sitting here knowing nothing. He had to get going.
He heard Bravo in the shower, and the man finally drifted into the living room, half dressed and sleepy looking.
Bravo stretched and asked, "What's for breakfast?"
Byrne did not really answer. He said, "Whatever it is, you can eat it fast and hit the road. You need to get to the coast, and I need to get settled in and concentrating on Hayzoo Christus—who may be looking at us right now."
Bravo scrubbed at his clean-shaven jaw.
"Maybe I'd better delay leaving until we get this settled out here. The sheriff won't lock me down for another week away, I don't think. I'll call him and see how the mop is flopping."
Alpha hungered to kick him out the door, but how could he complain that his partner wanted to stick with him through something by which he himself was no longer threatened?
Shepard made his call, and the conversation was clearly one-sided and cold in tenor. Bravo said, "Yes," a few times, and "I've got it, Sheriff," once.
He hung up and said, "The sheriff has become impatient. He suggested I get on the next flight out, or he will have the local law pick me up, and I will pay the cost of extraditing me in cuffs and shackles to his jurisdiction in California."
Byrne was pleased. Bravo would be out of it, and any noises he heard or forms he saw flitting around would not be friendly. Much better, but he said, "Well, you can't blame him, Bravo. He's got a vicious murder on his hands, the press on his butt, and no action on anything for more than two months. Eat and get going. Or better yet, just get going. All I'm cooking is eggs. You can stop at I-HOP and eat what you like."
Shepard was not fooled. "You're aching to get me out of here, Byrne, but you'll likely foul it up and be hiding in that mine when I get back to clean the slate." Bravo shrugged. "It can't be helped, though. My sheriff is pissed, and he let me know it. I've got to go.
"So, the sensible thing is that we both go out to the coast, and we come back in a week or two and do the job together—like we ought to.
"Hey, you can vouch for me being straight and lawful. The sheriff will listen to a genuine medical practitio
ner like yourself."
Byrne groaned. "Just go, Shepard. You make everything harder than it has to be. If Hayzoo shows up, I will take his scalp, and you can hang it in your lanai, or whatever you do with trophies on the left coast."
Bravo was standing, looking out a front window. "Well, maybe I'll just hang around for a few more minutes, Alpha. There are two hombres coming in the road. They're pretty far out, but they walk like Mexicans, and they are short with big hats and carrying tools and blanket rolls."
Byrne picked up his binoculars and looked before he handed them to Bravo.
The paranoid Doctor Don Byrne did not often believe in coincidences. Hayzoo Christus or his minions had arrived. He was suddenly glad that Bravo had delayed his departure.
Chapter 28
As they neared the house, Pasco repeated Christus' final instructions. "We must look friendly and hungry for labor, Raul. Make your eyes smile. We have done that a thousand times when we really wished to kill fools who spoke down to us. This time, we will have that satisfaction."
Raul turned his head to his companion, and his smile was broad and his eyes squinted in laugh lines. "How do I look?
"I would hire you in a moment and expect to pay you little."
Holding his smile, Raul reminded, "We will shoot on his first word. Is that the plan?"
"If he comes out onto his porch, we will shoot on his first word. If he merely peers at us around his door or through just a crack, allow me to move him outside with words. If I draw, you draw—and Raul, shoot very straight. Christus is right that speed will help us win, but we must hit what we aim at."
Raul breathed deeply. "This is an exciting moment, amigo. I am pleased that there are two of them. I hope they both step onto the porch, so that we can have one each." His brow furrowed, "We will have to shoot quickly, or Hayzoo will have his bullets in first."
Pasco tried his smile on Raul, "Christus will have to wait, my friend. These two are ours."
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