"Go right ahead." Myra pointed to the kitchen then turned and went upstairs. She stopped in Cal's room and instructed Christa to go and pack some clothes for Andy and her. Christa's eyes lit up. "We're going with you?"
"For the time being," Myra said. "Hurry, honey."
Once in her own room, Al came in and tapped her on the shoulder. "Not being nosy or anything, but does Wulf know you're pullin' up stakes?"
Myra's lips parted, ready with a lie. Then she shook her head. "No. But I'll call him once we're somewhere safe. I'm taking the girls because Vic is…presently unable to take care of…” Myra's voice drifted off as she saw Cal standing in the doorway to her bedroom. His face was white. He was staring at Al and making an angry gesture with his fingers.
Myra frowned and mouthed, "What?" causing Al to turn around.
The big man smiled. "I think he's trying to tell you somethin' behind my back. Is that it, bright boy?"
"That's right," Cal said his jaw hard. "He's one of 'em, Mom. He called Denke just now. I heard him on the phone." Myra blinked. "You. . . you . . ."
Al nodded at her speechlessness. "I didn't actually get hold of anyone. They're all at some dance. I did leave a message though and the message said to come out here as quick as they could."
"But you live—"
"Across the border, right." Al stuck his hands in his pockets and rearranged his genitals. "Like Darwin, I never did like bein' told what to do and when to do it. I paid my way out of doin' the Denke thing with the salvage yard. Just lately I changed my mind and decided to sell the place and come on back—if Jinx'll have me. After this I think he'll have me."
Myra's mouth was still open. "What about your son, the doctor? What about Arkansas?"
Al chuckled. "That was a good one, wasn't it? Sucked in old Wulf, just bigger'n shit. Had to find out what you folks were up to and stay on top of things, didn't I?" He winked at Myra then. "Did Cousin Gil get a little before Wulf pounced on him?"
Cal stepped forward. "You lousy lying bastard. You stay away from my mother."
Al laughed and sent one large arm out to catch Myra as she made to move past him. "Don't go skittish on me."
Myra shrieked and ducked out from beneath his hand. She ran down the stairs, with Al fast behind her and Cal behind him, shouting himself hoarse. Downstairs, the two little girls began to shriek. Myra ran for the living room and saw that the front door was open. She burst through the screen door and immediately felt the bottom of her jaw catch fire. Her hands flew up to her face and were soon covered with blood. She watched with shock-rounded eyes as Al crumpled to the floor directly behind her, a red oozing hole in his left breast.
"Mom, get down!" Cal screamed.
Myra dropped to a crouch on the doorsill and heard wood splinter high and to the right of her head. She flattened and tried to back herself inside, but Al was in the way. She pulled herself forward instead and cringed as three more rapid shots plowed through wood all around her. Blood from her jaw streamed warm and thick down her neck as she struggled across the porch toward the nearest patch of darkness. Finally she glanced out toward the direction of the shots. Hallway down the drive she saw a small dark car that looked exactly like the Aston Martin driven by Cal's grandmother.
She came up in her surprise, and when the next shot was fired she jerked with a violent spasm and suddenly found herself rushing through frigid darkness. As she went limp she felt someone take her hand. Inside the house, Cal began to scream.
CHAPTER 33
Vic glanced over to Jinx as they drove through the desert in the darkness. The dash lights cast an eerie glow over the old man's features, revealing what Vic thought to be the true monster behind the mask. He sucked in a deep breath and forced his eyes away.
"Damn, Vic," Jinx said finally. "We must've driven thirty miles already. How the hell you know where you're goin'?"
"Our man showed me a map when I took the sample of coke to him. Most drug dealers are paranoid, Jinx. They like quiet, out-of-the-way places for making their deals."
"He wants the whole kilo, does he? Liked that sample pretty good?"
"He liked it."
"Good. That's real good."
After six more miles, Vic found an outcropping of rock that looked like a good landmark. He pulled off the road and parked by the rock. Beside him, Jinx swore softly.
"Shit its dark out here at night. Lots of stars and a little bitty sliver of moon, is all. Can't see a damned thing."
Vic got out of the car. Jinx hadn't looked in the trunk. The old fart never even approached it since Vic returned to the motel with the news that they might be able to sell the entire kilo to the Las Vegas connection. The greed was literally lighting up the old man's eyes. It made Vic sick.
"Where the hell is he?" Jinx asked from inside the car. "S'posed to be here, wasn't he?"
"Yeah," was all Vic said.
"I guess if you ain't worried, I shouldn't be either." Jinx grinned then. "You know, I just thought of somethin'. Is this boy comin' alone or will he be bringin' someone with him?"
"Why?" Vic asked.
Jinx withdrew a straight razor from his pants pocket and showed it to Vic. "Because if he comes alone, we might just as well put him down, take his money, and go on to sell the dope in Albuquerque just like we planned. That way we'd have all kinds of seed money and the world would have one less dope dealer…if you know what I mean."
Vic stared at him. "You are one psychotic sonofabitch."
Jinx laughed. "No, I ain't. I'm the smartest man you're ever likely to meet, Victor Kimmler. That I am." He got out of the car then and unzipped his pants. "I’ve been pissin' like a racehorse since lunch today. Might be comin' down with some bladder trouble, I don't know."
Jinx was peeing so much because Vic had dumped some of his amphetamines into the old man's coffee in the café. A dose of his own fucking medicine to make him just a little jumpy, a tad paranoid and very much on edge. See how he liked it.
While Jinx peed, Vic slipped to the back of the Caddy and slid his key into the trunk lock. He noiselessly lifted the lid.
"You don't suppose this was a setup?" Jinx asked as he watched himself pee. "This fella ain't a cop, is he?"
"Not anymore," Vic said, and something in his voice made Jinx stop peeing. The old man slowly zipped up and turned.
Carrie had a Louisville Slugger in her hands. She wore K-mart shorts, shirt and shoes, and her eyes glittered dangerously as she surveyed the old man. The cocaine Vic had given her was singing through her blood, making her constantly wet her dry lips and causing her restless hands to slide up and down the bat.
Jinx brought out his razor. "You messed up, boy," he said to Vic. "You don't know who you're dealin' with."
"He might not," said Carrie, "but I do. You're a warped, perverted rapist who also happens to be a pedophile. You like little girls, don't you? The smaller the better is what I heard you say the last time you were on top of me. You thought I was out, but I wasn't. You said you wished I had smaller bones, like someone named Christa. You said you wished I was Christa, but if I were, you said you would probably strangle me when you were done."
Vic's feet were already in the air before Carrie finished. The razor sliced through his pant leg and found skin as he kicked, but Jinx's hold was broken. The old man clutched his wrist and bolted away. Vic scooped up the blade and went after him, Carrie at his heels. Jinx ran blindly across the desert terrain, stumbling over rocks, and brush. Vic caught up with him easily and grabbed him from behind only to throw him down on the ground and sit on top of him. The blade of the razor went to the old man's throat.
"Vic," Carrie warned.
Vic's breathing was loud and harsh. "My daughter?" he rasped. "You were after my daughter?"
Strings of saliva fell from Jinx's mouth as he turned his head. His lungs strained for air as Vic sat on his heaving chest. When the blade bit into Jinx's wrinkled neck, Carrie stepped forward and held up the bat.
"Vic, I swear I'll h
it you with this thing. You said I could have him. You said I could have a shot at the man who raped me. Now get off."
"Don't," Jinx said hoarsely. "Do it now, Vic. Get it over with. The young buck kills the old. You're still one of us. You're still our boy."
Vic held the razor a moment, his nostrils flaring, then he spat into Jinx's face and rolled away. "I'm nobody's boy, Jinx." Then he looked at Carrie and nodded.
Before Jinx could scramble away, Carrie moved in and lifted the bat high over her head. She brought it down hard across Jinx's shoulders and grunted with the effort expended. When Jinx tried to crawl away, Carrie followed. Vic stood by the Caddy and watched as she went on to strike her attacker seven more times, hitting him in the back, arms, legs, head, and in the groin area. "This is for me," she gasped, "and this is for any other women, or little girls that you may have touched, you sick bastard!" When she finished, Jinx was sprawled on the ground and moaning. With visibly shaking hands, Carrie came and handed the bat to Vic.
"I think. . . I broke . . . his arms," she huffed. “And maybe his jaw.”
"I would've broken a hell of a lot more than that," Vic responded.
"You want to?" Carrie pointed to the bat in his hands and Vic shook his head.
"No. Let's go."
"Go?" Carrie echoed. "You mean we're leaving him here? In the desert?"
"You have a problem with that?"
Carrie was silent.
Vic’s voice was hard. "He has a chance. It's more than he gave you and God knows how many others, right?"
"Right," Carrie finally murmured.
Vic tossed the bat in the back seat and reached inside to bring out Jinx's suitcase.
"You're leaving that?" Carrie asked.
"The coke I told you about is inside."
"Oh." She shivered and clasped her arms around herself.
Vic carried the suitcase over to where Jinx lay. "Here's your coke, Jinx. Snort some and you may stay alive long enough to make it back to town. Then again, it may kill you."
Jinx lifted a hand and pointed at Vic. His smile was black with blood and his broken glasses gave off a strange reflection in the grudging moonlight. "They'll eat you alive," he whispered through his teeth.
"No," Vic said. "They'll eat you alive, Jinx. Your bones will be picked clean."
He turned and walked back to the Caddy. As he started the engine, he saw a look on Carrie's face that made him pause. "What?" he said to her.
She looked down at her hands. "Do you realize what we've done? What we're doing?"
He studied her in the darkness of the car. "Already regretting your bloodlust?"
Carrie shook her head. "That's the problem. I don't think I'll ever regret it." She looked at Vic then. "Are we going after the other one now?"
"Other one?"
"Mashed face, crew cut, big white teeth. He was the first one who raped me. I want him, too. If you knew this one, then I assume you know that one. Do you?"
Vic's stomach sank. "Yes. I do."
"Well?" Carrie said. "Are we going to get him?"
Vic breathed in deeply and slowly released the air in his lungs. His head had threatened to become fuzzy again. "After we get my girls to safety, we'll get him. I promise."
Carrie nodded and looked over her shoulder at the place where Jinx lay as Vic guided the Caddy back onto the road. The old man struggled up to one elbow then screamed through his teeth as his broken limb gave way. His cries echoed across the desert floor and followed them down the dark road as they sped into the night.
Still shivering, Carrie moved closer to Vic and sat beside him, curling her freezing hands under his warm arm. Vic felt the trembling of her limbs go on long after she had dozed off. He looked at his own hands on the wheel and found them surprisingly still.
CHAPTER 34
Nolan looked around the back room of Jinx's diner with dismay. It smelled like rotten meat. Ed was moving a big grinder away from a wall, pushing it across the counter until the muscles in his puny arms began to twitch. Nolan went to help him and the old man backed away in relief. "The safe is in the wall behind, I'm pretty sure."
The grinder was the source of the smell, Nolan soon discovered. There were bits of meat still clinging to the metal. He wrinkled his nose and shoved the thing down the counter and out of the way. He saw nothing on the wall behind. Ed stepped forward again, his eyes shining with his excitement. "Wulf, I just thought of something. It's dark now, so why don't you pull your car around to the back entrance here and we'll get old Gil out of your backseat. No tellin' who might've noticed that empty car a rockin' the way it was when we came in here."
You mean when I kicked in the door, Nolan thought. But yeah, he wasn't wild about Schwarz thrashing around out there in his car. He nodded, felt in his pocket for his keys, and headed for the back door. He glanced over his shoulder once before he stepped out and saw Ed lifting up a hinged section of the Formica counter. The lying old bastard. There was probably money in there that he wanted to pocket before digging out the documents, Nolan decided. He thought of going back in, but the need to save his car was greater than the urge to roust the old thief.
Thief, murderer, plunderer, and whatever the hell else Ed had done in his twisted life. Nolan was still reeling with amazement and disgust at the crimes these old men had committed in the name of Denke. Definitely not your average friendly-faced crop farmers, these Denke people. But that was the cutting edge of their trap, he realized. Who would suspect a harmless-looking old man like Ed Kisner?
Jinx was different. He could see Jinx slitting throats and raking jewelry off necks and fingers. He could see him raping women as well, though the vision made him gag slightly. Ed had claimed he didn't go in for that stuff, but Nolan thought the picture Ed had painted of himself held more dark shades than light. A lot more.
When he got to the car he told Schwarz to be still or he would finish what Cal started and knock the rest of his teeth out. Schwarz growled like a dog and then whined. He didn't like being trussed up like a pig about to be roasted, Nolan guessed. Didn't like being tied up the same way he had . . . Oh, Christ, don't think about her, Nolan told himself. Myra's not going anywhere. She'll be there when you're done here. And when you get back you can think about why your guts twisted up when you thought you were never going to see her again. And then maybe you can think about what you're going to do when she really is gone.
But not now. Now he had to think about doing this, or he would never be back in the hour he had promised. He pulled the car as close to the back door of the diner as possible.
Schwartz's weight had required the help of both Cal and Myra to get him down the stairs of the house and into the car. Myra hadn't wanted to touch him, but she bit her lip and pitched in anyway. Nolan would now need Ed's help to get the huge bundle into the diner.
What they were going to do with him then, Nolan didn't know. He hadn't thought to ask what Ed had in mind.
"Hey," he called at the back door. "Come out and give me a hand with this big bastard."
After a pause, Ed came. But it was still a struggle. Nolan had to take the head again, while the puny-armed Ed struggled with Schwarz's massive, trunk-like legs. Ed had pulled a trundle bed over by the door. A bed with casters that rolled like a hospital gurney. When Schwarz was on it, Ed stood back and grinned "How you doin' there, Gil? You stupid, crazy bloodsucker, you."
Schwarz started growling and thrashing again, and to Nolan's surprise, a strand of the baling wire snapped under the strain of the man's heaving chest. Incredible. He smacked Schwarz in the nose "Be still, dammit." Then he looked at Ed. "What was under the counter? Money?"
Ed's eyes narrowed. Then he grinned. "Yeah. About fifty grand, hidden apart from the town money. I knew Jinx'd been stealin' a little here and there over the years, but I never dreamed he'd holed away that much. Good man that I am I left the town money intact."
"That was big of you," Nolan said "What about the documents?"
"In that big manila
envelope on the counter there. Drivers licenses, credit cards, and so forth."
Nolan walked over. "Great, now all I have to do is get rid of Schwarz. Might as well give him to the state, along with the envelope. That way his good buddy the sheriff won't—" Nolan stopped and whirled when he heard a whistling sound. He was in time to see Ed Kisner bury the blade of a large axe in Gil Schwarz's bulging throat. Schwarz's head went off the end of the cot and hung there, attached by muscle and flesh. Another strand of baling wire snapped.
"Holy shit," Nolan breathed. Then he stopped gaping and started worrying when Ed turned with surprising agility and lifted the axe again. Spry as a cat, the grinning old man leapt to put himself between Nolan and the back door.
"Come on, Wulf," he said. "Come and get some. I ain't too shabby with this thing. Just ask old Gil there. Well, I guess you can't do that. Gil looks positively speechless about now."
Nolan took advantage of Ed's mirth at his own sick joke to do a quick spin and a swift running kick at the locked door that opened into the diner. The frame shattered and the wood splintered as the lock gave way. Nolan burst into the diner section and swung back the door in time to catch the tip of the axe that was aimed at his head. The blade wedged in the top panel of the door. In the darkness he could see it move as Ed tried to jerk it out. Then it was still. He held his breath to listen.
An odd scratching sound at the door lasted for more than a minute. Then there was no sound at all.
Had Ed gone out to the Buick to get the pistol Nolan had so stupidly left lying in his front seat? Or was he waiting for Nolan to open the door so he could nail him with one of Jinx's foot-long carving knives?
Nolan hated blades. Always had. And that was all these crazy bastards ever used.
Where, Ed? Nolan wondered. Where are you?
In the next second he knew where. The sound of an engine outside. He ran to the window and saw a car pull away from the barber shop. Ed was making his getaway with the fifty grand. Nolan rushed into the back room and skidded through the blood on the floor to grab the manila envelope from the counter. His attention was caught momentarily by the impotent rage in Gil Schwarz's glaring silver eyes. The feral glint of his teeth. Then Nolan managed to shake himself. His feet left bloody prints as he raced out the door to the Buick.
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