Hap and Leonard

by Joe R. Lansdale

  I got out of the car again with the .22, keeping it held down low. But when Smoke Stack saw the situation at the bank, the crowd, his boys down in the lot, he had Brett drive on. Nothing speedy. She just eased out of the lot. So far, no one even knew the SUV was supposed to be part of what was going on.

  I was sure neither Smoke Stack nor Stumpy had seen me. I got in the car, and we eased out of the lot with our hats pulled down low and followed the SUV.

  It went slow as it turned down the street toward the square, and then it hit South Street and turned. Holding a ways back, but not too far.

  My cell rang. I answered.

  It was Marvin. “You on them?” he asked.

  “On them,” I said.

  They went along for a few lights, driving casual, then they turned on Highway 7. We pulled down a little dirt road and got out and pulled off the pinstriping and threw it and our hats into the bushes. It was most likely wasted energy, but it was the only clever thing we had had time to plan, and frankly, it wasn’t that damn clever.

  We got back in the car and went after them, finally caught up and stayed behind them at a goodly distance. Another car passed and got between us. But that was all right. It was a kind of camouflage. We all three drove out Highway 7.

  We went on for quite some time, and then the car between us turned off, and we fell back a little. There was road work ahead, and they fanned the SUV through, but stopped us. We sat there and waited. It was a cool day, but I was sweating. They were getting ahead of us.

  “Should we run it?” I said.

  “Stay cool,” Leonard said.

  That was like asking a polar bear to stay cool in Albuquerque in mid-July.

  Finally they waved us through. Leonard put his foot to the floor. We didn’t see them. We had lost them.

  I called Marvin.

  “Man, we lost them. We’re gonna need you out here to help look. We got to do back roads. Shit, I don’t know what we got to do.”

  “Take it easy,” Marvin said.

  “Easier said than done. Goddamn road work. It got us hung up.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Out Highway 7.”

  “Highway 7. We’re coming . . . wait. Donny. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Fuck him.”

  “It’s about where they might be.”

  “Then put him on.”

  “Hap,” Donny said, “I want to help.”

  “Then you better not be wasting my time with a chat.”

  “Smoke Stack, if he’s out Highway 7, he’s going to the Take Off. That’s what he calls a pasture out there. I think his family might have owned it. It’s about twenty acres, used to be a hayfield, has some aluminum buildings. He keeps an ultralight there. That’s why he calls it the Take Off. He uses the pasture as a kind of airport. He could be going there. I was there with him once. Went out to help him get a car from one of the sheds. One we had stored for the getaway, before you found out about it. He could have stored the car back there.”

  “For a trade-off?”

  “Maybe. But that’s a place he could be. Maybe they’re just hiding out there. I don’t know. But it makes sense.”

  He gave me the directions. It was down a county road. We had passed it. Leonard wheeled the car and we drove back.

  The place wasn’t hard to find, not once we knew which road to take. Donny explained all that over the phone. There was a line of trees, and then a pasture. From the directions, we concluded we were at the right place.

  We parked by a small bridge. I spoke into the cell. “We’re here.”

  “Good luck,” Donny said.

  “Luck has got nothing to do with it,” I said, and turned off the phone.

  I took the .22 out and Leonard took the shotgun. We walked over the bridge and along the side of the road behind the trees for about a hundred feet. We stopped near the road and jumped over a ditch and looked through a gap in a patch of pines.

  From there we could see a grown-up pasture and about a hundred yards out, a long low aluminum shed. It had two large double doors on it. One set of doors was wide open. I could see the ultralight Donny had mentioned. I had been up in one once, a two-seater. I was the passenger. It was like riding in a winged lawn mower.

  The SUV was parked near the shed.

  If Smoke Stack and Stumpy were going out of there in the ultralight, then there wouldn’t be any room for Brett and Kelly. They’d either leave them, or pop them. I suspected the latter. But they hadn’t done it yet because I could see Brett and Kelly by the shed. It looked as if they might be wearing handcuffs; their hands were tucked behind their backs and they were leaning against the building. The only way into the pasture, which was fenced with barbed wire, was over a cattle guard.

  Smoke Stack and Stumpy were tugging the ultralight out of the shed.

  “Looks like they aren’t going to bother with a car,” Leonard said.

  “Go start the car,” I said.

  “You can shoot from here.”

  “I can. But I’m going through the trees and through the fence, and I’m going to walk straight toward them. I need to be closer and surer. You drive over that cattle guard like your ass is on fire, distract them. I’ll take my shot then. It’ll be Smoke Stack first. Then I reload and it’s the other one.”

  “That’s slow reloading with all that’s going on, you and that single-shot squirrel rifle,” Leonard said.

  “I’m quick and it’s a little late to upgrade.”

  Leonard walked back to the car and I started through the trees and through the wire. I heard the car engine start. It wasn’t loud enough to startle anyone, far back as he was. And then I heard the car coming, like the proverbial bat out of hell.

  I hurried across the pasture. Smoke Stack hadn’t seen me yet. He was preoccupied with another part of his plan. He hadn’t wanted to share the two-seater at all. And I knew why. All that money had to have a place to sit.

  He had an automatic pistol drawn, and he turned and shot his partner right through the head. I saw him heave something in a bag into the ultralight, then he started over toward Brett and Kelly, the automatic hanging from his hand. He was partially hidden by the ultralight. I could only get glimpses of him through the wings and the motor and the seating. He hadn’t seen me yet. He was preoccupied.

  I stopped and dropped to one knee and took my shot.

  I saw his hair lift a little, my shot was so close.

  But I missed. I NEVER FUCKING MISSED. And I had missed.

  My heart sank.

  Smoke Stack wheeled. And when he did, Brett jumped up, and, with her hands against her back, she leaped at him, hit him with a body slam, and knocked him spinning backwards, his gun flying from his hand. I dropped the .22 and started running toward him. Leonard was flying through the cattle guard then, bearing down on Smoke Stack.

  Smoke Stack got up and out from under Brett, who struggled to her feet and tried to jump at him again. But Smoke Stack dodged her like a quarterback on the run and leapt into the ultralight. I heard the motor start up and a moment later the machine was bouncing over the field. I was running on a collision course with Leonard. He slammed on the brakes and I slid over the hood and jumped in on the other side.

  “Go,” I said.

  The ultralight was gaining some speed. Its bounces were becoming higher. In a moment it would hop and then leap to the sky.

  But the motor on that thing wasn’t a match for a car. We were closing. As we passed Brett, who had struggled to her feet, she looked at me.

  I waved.

  The car bounced along until it was almost even with the ultralight. I hung myself out of the open window, eased out until I was sitting on the edge of it with my legs dangling, my arms inside, keeping me lodged. And then I eased on arm out.

  “Closer,” I said.

  Leonard did that. I cocked one foot up until it was on the window support, and I shoved off just as the ultralight was making its big jump.

  I hit the wing of the u
ltralight, scrambling for a grip, and my weight nodded it toward the ground. The wing hit. The propeller gnawed at the pasture. There was a sudden whirl as the sky came down and then went up again, followed by a close look at, and a hard impact with, the ground.

  I heard a noise like someone dragging a rake through gravel. It was the ultralight spinning in circles like a confused idiot. The money had come loose of the bag and some of it was spinning in the air and some had been caught in the propeller and chopped up. It looked like the last hurrah of a parade, the last bits of confetti thrown.

  On my feet, I saw Smoke Stack coming toward me. He was so angry he was actually foaming at the mouth. His face was scratched up.

  “Now you get your shot, buddy,” I said.

  “I’ll fucking kill you.”

  He was like a locomotive. It wasn’t like that night in his house. He was crazed with anger and maybe he had been on drugs, or most likely had just underestimated me. That happens a lot. But he was dead serious now.

  I dodged his rush and kicked out. I was trying to hit him in the solar plexus, but he instinctively crunched his body and took the shot on his upraised forearms. The impact, the disorientation of the crash, had me off a bit, so the impact of hitting him like that knocked me down. He leaped on me like a big frog.

  I heard Leonard slam the car door and start over. But me and Smoke Stack were into it. I spread my legs and got him between them. He tried to hit me. I put up my arms. I was deflecting most of the blows, but I was taking some of it. Finally I cupped one of his arms at the elbow and swung a leg to the side of his neck. I was trying to pull him into a triangle choke, but the angle wasn’t right. He pushed my leg back so that it was being mashed across my face. It was damn uncomfortable. I used my other leg to kick at his hip, knocking him back a bit, loosening him. It allowed me to swing my leg free. I poked him in the eyes with my fingers, and when he went back and put a hand to his face, I rolled out from under him.

  Now I was on my feet, where I preferred to be. I saw Leonard leaning against the car, the shotgun lying on the fender.

  “You got him,” Leonard said.

  Smoke Stack came in swinging. I ducked him and came up with an uppercut that knocked him back. I kicked him in the nuts then, but he was too high on adrenaline for it to matter. He came swinging again. I glanced the blows off my forearms and got inside and grabbed his head and kneed him inside of the leg. Adrenaline wasn’t enough to stop that pain.

  His leg went out from under him. I swung a downward right cross, and back he went. He rolled onto his hands and knees and scuttled and finally got to his feet. He put a hand to his pocket, and when he brought it out, he had a knife.

  He crouched, eased toward me. There was sound like a cannon going off and Smoke Stack’s head disappeared in a blur of red and gray and flying white fragments. Within a blink of an eye, what was left of him was lying on the ground.

  I looked at Leonard. He was lowering the shotgun.

  “You proved your point, and you got your licks in,” he said. “But that knife, that could have been a problem.”

  We found that Brett’s and Kelly’s hands were bound with plastic cuffs. We cut those off. I said to Brett, “You all right, baby?”

  “Yeah,” Brett said. “I’m fine. All they did was get an unauthorized look at my nubile body. A look like they got, I should have been paid money.”

  I grinned at her and we kissed.

  I walked back and got the .22. The shell casing was still in it.

  We packed up and drove out of there in Leonard’s car, left the money and the bodies.

  It was a few weeks later.

  A tip had led the police to the bodies in the field. Way it looked was there had been a problem between thieves. Smoke Stack had shot his partner and tried to escape, but crashed. Someone had blown his head off. They took this to be another partner. They were glad to get most of the money back. I don’t know about the shredded stuff. I envisioned some bank clerk gluing the pieces back together like an archeologist reuniting shards of pottery. It was a silly thought, but it hung in my head.

  The other partner, of course, wouldn’t be found. Neither would the .22 that killed the two would-be robbers in the bank lot. The cops had an idea that one of the partners went rogue, first with a .22, then a shotgun. It was a silly theory, but thank goodness they liked that story and were sticking to it. They’re not dumb, just arrogant.

  It was a nice afternoon with a clear sky and a light wind. We were in the backyard grilling burgers, me and Brett and Leonard. The doorbell rang. That would be our guests.

  I went through the house and let Marvin and Kelly and Donny in, walked them out back.

  Leonard was flipping the burgers.

  We greeted each other, talked.

  Donny said, “I haven’t said nothing, and I never will.”

  “I believe you,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t want you mad at me,” Donny said.

  “That’s good thinking,” Leonard said.

  “But I wouldn’t say anyway. I . . . I can’t thank you guys enough. You hadn’t done what you did, I’d be dead.”

  “Absolutely,” Leonard said.

  “Thanks again for saving my little brother,” Kelly said, “and thanks for passing on the payment I owed you guys. I can use the dough.”

  “Man,” Leonard said. “You’re the hero. You put yourself on the line. Changed your life, got your ass whipped by me, and thoroughly, I might add, and then you didn’t even have any protection from those guys and still you went to work.”

  “You warned me,” Kelly said. “You told me not to stay on the job.”

  “Yep,” Leonard said. “We did.”

  “And, I sort of squealed when they put those cigarettes on me. I thought I could take it. I was sure I could. One burn and I was already starting to loosen my tongue.”

  “It hurts,” Leonard said. “You’re not a professional tough guy. We don’t begrudge you trying to make the pain stop. Besides, in the long run it worked out.”

  “Well,” Brett said, stretching out in a lawn chair, her long legs poking sweetly out of her shorts. “All’s well that ends well and doesn’t make mess on the rug.”

  “Here, here,” Marvin said.

  “You said it right, Brett,” Donny said. “They were hyenas. And I don’t want to be like that.”

  “Good thinking,” Brett said.

  “I find a woman I care about,” Donny said, “I hope she’s half the woman you are, Brett.”

  “Oh, honey,” Brett said smiling. “That’s so sweet. But too optimistic. You can’t find anyone half as good as me. A quarter of my worth maybe, if you’re having a good day. But half, don’t be silly.”

  Veil’s Visit

  with Andrew Vachss

  1.

  Leonard eyed Veil for a long, hard moment and said, “If you’re a lawyer, then I can shit a perfectly round turd through a hoop at twenty paces. Blindfolded.”

  “I am a lawyer,” Veil said. “But I’ll let your accomplishments speak for themselves.”

  Veil was average height, dark hair touched with gray, one good eye. The other one roamed a little. He had a beard that could have been used as a Brillo pad, and he was dressed in an expensive suit and shiny shoes, a fancy wristwatch, and ring. He was the only guy I’d ever seen with the kind of presence Leonard has. Scary.

  “You still don’t look like any kind of lawyer to me,” Leonard said.

  “He means that as a compliment,” I said to Veil. “Leonard doesn’t think real highly of your brethren at the bar.”

  “Oh, you’re a bigot?” Veil asked pleasantly, looking directly at Leonard with his one good eye. A very icy eye indeed—I remembered it well.

  “The fuck you talking about? Lawyers are all right. They got their purpose. You never know when you might want one of them to weigh down a rock at the bottom of a lake.” Leonard’s tone had shifted from mildly inquisitive to that of a man who might like to perform a live dissection.
/>   “You think all lawyers are alike, right? But if I said all blacks are alike, you’d think you know something about me, right?”

  “I knew you were coming to that,” Leonard said.

  “Well,” I said. “I think this is really going well. What about you boys?”

  Veil and Leonard may not have bonded as well as I had hoped, but they certainly had some things in common. In a way, they were both assholes. I, of course, exist on a higher plane.

  “You wearing an Armani suit, must have set you back a thousand dollars—” Leonard said.

  “You know a joint where I can get suits like this for a lousy one grand, I’ll stop there on my way back and pick up a couple dozen,” Veil said.

  “Yeah, fine,” Leonard said. “Gold Rolex, diamond ring . . . how much all that set you back?”

  “It was a gift,” Veil said.

  “Sure,” Leonard said. “You know what you look like?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You look like Central Casting for a mob movie.”

  “And you look like a candidate for a chain gang. Which is kind of why I’m here.”

  “You gonna defend me? How you gonna do that? I may not know exactly what you are, but I can bet the farm on this—you ain’t no Texas lawyer. Hell, you ain’t no Texan, period.”

  “No problem. I can just go pro hac vice.”

  “I hope that isn’t some kind of sexual act,” Leonard said. “Especially if it involves me and you.”

  “It just means I get admitted to the bar for one case. For the specific litigation. I’ll need local counsel to handle the pleadings, of course. . . .”

  “Do I look like a goddamned pleader to you? And you best not say yes.”

  “‘Pleadings’ just means the papers,” Veil said, his voice a model of patience. “Motions, applications . . . stuff like that. You wanted to cop a plea to this, Hap wouldn’t need me. I don’t do that kind of thing. And by the way, I’m doing this for Hap, not you.”

  “What is it makes you so special to Hap?” Leonard asked, studying Veil’s face carefully. “What is it that you do do?”

  “Fight,” Veil said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He can do that.”