Jailbreak

by Giles Tippette

  He got the cord out of his saddlebags, took out his knife and cut the twenty feet into proper lengths. When he was finished they were both laying back down on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs and their feet drawed up toward their hands. They looked mighty uncomfortable. Hays straightened up from his work and said, “That good enough, boss?”

  I said, “Yeah. You got any socks?”

  “What?”

  “Socks. What you wear on your feet.”

  He looked a little dubious. “Yeah,” he said, “but they ain’t too clean.”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Stick one in each of their mouths.”

  He went into his saddlebags and came out with a couple of bedraggled-looking objects I wouldn’t have let a cat bed down on. I said, “Luís, you got a handkerchief?”

  With a little effort because of the position he was in he said, “Yes, señor. It is in the pocket of my suit coat. On the right side.”

  “All right,” I said. I nodded for Hays to accommodate Senor Obregon with one of his socks, but I knelt down by Luís, found his handkerchief and stuffed it in his mouth. Then I went over to Obregon. I said, “You son of a bitch, you thought I was easy. You might want to think again before you try some of your tricks on the next sucker that walks through your door.”

  After that Hays shouldered his saddlebag and I done the same with mine as we got to the door. There was a key on the desk usually occupied by Luís and I used that to lock the office door. Anybody coming by would simply think they’d left for siesta. Hays had the bucket containing what I hoped were bombs. I’d put tenpenny nails in a few of them, but I didn’t really think they’d be very effective except as a diversionary tactic. Hays was mumbling something about what he was supposed to do with just one sock. I told him to shut up.

  But as we stepped out of the office he said, kind of hesitantly, “Boss, you know, I ain’t real sure you ain’t part crazy.”

  I was watching the street, looking for Ben and Jack. I said, “Why is that, Ray?”

  He said, “Well, here we are, fixin’ to try and break your brother outen a Mexican jail and you take time off to fix things square with a lawyer. Boss, that don’t make no sense. Most folks would be content with just the jailbreak.”

  I said, still searching for sight of Ben as we walked toward the jail, “That’s because you ain’t ever had to be responsible for running an outfit. Do you know how many cowhands wages you can pay with seventeen hundred and forty dollars?”

  “No,” he said.

  “I do,” I said. “And once you let folks start getting to you they’ll think the bank is open twenty-four hours a day. Look, yonder comes Ben and Jack with the horses. From this instant on you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you.”

  “Ain’t I always?” he said.

  We were almost at the corner of the street opposite the jail. Ben came riding up with Jack lagging back, leading three horses. Hays and I tucked our revolvers into our saddlebags and handed them up to Ben. He took them without a word and then wheeled back toward Jack. There just wasn’t anything left to say. Hays and I, him carrying the bucket, started across the street toward the jail. There was a little wind blowing and it raised some of the dust of the street so that I was able to get a good noseful of just what a Mexican town smelled like.

  Maybe it was just apprehension, but there appeared to be considerable more police hanging around the front of the jail, either sitting on benches or leaning up against the granite wall. All of them had those Sam Browne belts with the strap across the chest and they were all wearing the khaki uniform of the federales. And all of them had a carbine either hanging off his shoulder or near to hand. All I could think was that Elizandro’s boys had better do some damn good shooting or we’d never reach the horses. I glanced over at Hays and he gave me a kind of nervous little laugh. I didn’t blame him; I wasn’t feeling all that calm myself. And it wasn’t even his brother. I said, “Remind me to give you a raise if we get out of this.”

  He said, “I appreciate it, boss. I just hope I git a chance to spend it.”

  He sounded about as sure as I felt.

  The federales glanced at us as we pushed the big door open and entered the outer office. It all looked the same but, in light of what was to come, very much more threatening. The same sergeant was sitting at his desk by the door that led back to the cells. By now he and I were old buddies on account of all the dinero I’d passed his way. His eyes lit up and he smiled when he saw us come in. I figured he was thinking, “Here comes Santa Claus again.” I went up to his desk and made application to see my brother, meanwhile slipping a fifty-peso note across the desk to the sergeant. He took it without a word and folded it carefully and put it in his shirt pocket. I taken notice that he had his police revolver laying on his desk where it would be right quick to hand. That was something I’d have to keep in mind.

  About then my two jailer friends came up, jangling their keys on their belts and smiling big. One of them had a gold tooth and I was surprised somebody hadn’t killed him for it. They were just as glad to see me as the sergeant had been, naturally expecting another payday. Well, it was payday all right, but not the kind they were expecting.

  One of them opened the big door that went back to the cells and we went through. Gold Tooth went first, then me, then Hays and his bucket, and then the second guard. Jailers, or anybody that goes near the prisoners, don’t carry weapons for the simple reason that they’re running the risk of having one taken away from them. Not that that mattered because I had no intentions of giving them time to use them. We walked down the hall between the line of cells on both sides, heading toward the end where Norris was bunking. About halfway down, just as we came opposite Elizandro’s cell, I stopped and bent over like something was bothering my boot. I slipped my hand inside, and when I straightened up I was holding the derringer. Gold Tooth had stopped also and turned back to face me. I let him see the little gun, then rammed it in his belly. As I did I held a finger of my left hand to my lips indicating he should not make a sound and emphasized it by prodding him a couple of times with the derringer. His eyes got big in his brown face and his gold tooth was showing but not because he was smiling. To my left I heard a quiet chuckle and, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Senor Elizandro standing at the door of his cell smoking a cigarillo. He said, “Muy bueno.”

  I said, “Hays, you got the other one?”

  He said, “Got his hands over his head, boss. He’s quivering a little, but all in all he’s being right nice about matters.”

  I said, “Take his keys and hand them to Senor Elizandro.” Then, to the caballero, I said, “Señor, as soon as you can find the right key and get yourself out of your cell I want you to take this derringer from me and put these two in your cell and keep them quiet.”

  He said, “I thenk that will be very possible.”

  I heard a lot of jangling and rattling of keys and then Elizandro was beside me. I felt his hand on my gun hand and I let the derringer ease into his grip. He said some words in Spanish to Gold Tooth and he moved with good speed into the cell that the señor had lately been occupying. I turned around. Hays was herding his man in behind Gold Tooth. I said, “Just keep these two quiet. Don’t shoot unless you have to.”

  Hays said, “We better hurry, boss. Somebody is likely to get curious what we doing back here.”

  I took the keys off the belt of Hays’s jailer as he passed, picked up the bucket of beer-bottle bombs and hurried back to Norris’s cell. He was sitting on his bunk, staring down at the floor, seemingly unaware of all that had transpired. I fumbled with the keys until I found the right one, unlocked his cell door and swung it wide. He looked up. He said, “What’s this?”

  I said, “I think they call it a jailbreak.”

  “Oh, no!” he said. “Not on your life!”

  I had reached into my pocket and come out with the primer cord fuses and was starting to fit them into the holes in the top of the bottles. I glanced
up at him in some surprise. I said, “What?”

  He was just sitting on his bunk shaking his head. “Oh, no. I’ll be no party to a jailbreak. I’ll have my day in court and show how wrongfully I’ve been treated. I’m not going to be a party to an illegal action.”

  I was still busy stuffing the fuses through the waxed-over holes in the caps of the bottles, trying to vary them so some would go off in a second, others two seconds, others longer. My intent was to keep up a continuous run of explosions as we were trying to race through the office of the jail. I stared at him. I said, “Are you crazy?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of his cell. “I certainly am not. I know my rights and I will have my due process of law. I’m considering legal action against these people for false arrest.”

  I said, “Norris, this is Mexico. They ain’t got no due process or whatever you call it.” I could feel the seconds ticking by and knew that time was running out. “Norris, we have pulled guns on two Mexican jailers. We are in too deep to back out now. Get your ass up and get out of here. This thing is dangerous enough without you costing me time.”

  “No, sir,” he said.

  I couldn’t believe it. I said, “Four men are risking their lives to get you out of here. Now get off your fat ass and move it!”

  “Nope,” he said, still with his arms crossed resolutely.

  I was squatting down by the bucket, still inserting fuses. I looked behind me. Hays and Elizandro had the two guards inside the cell with the door shut and locked. The guards had their hands on the top of their heads, but they were being helped to behave by the two derringers pointed at their bellies. There were no prisoners in the few cells near Norris, but I could see several on down the line. They were up against the bars watching, in some fascination, what was going on. Most of them appeared to be peons, probably arrested for being drunk or for petty theft or because some federale wanted a shot at their wife without the old man interfering. I looked at Hays. He had a most anxious appearance about his face and he made little hurry-up signs to me with his free hand.

  I turned back to Norris. “We are out of time. Are you coming?”

  He took a deep breath and began, as if he were explaining to a child, “I have told you I have been wrongfully arrested. I am going to insist on my rights. I am going to stay in this jail cell until I get redress of the wrongs that have been done me. My position . . .”

  He kept going, sounding like a Philadelphia lawyer, but I wasn’t paying him any attention. I took out the ten-inch fuse, rammed it into one of the bottle bombs and then got out a lucifer match. I struck it on the sweaty concrete floor and lit the fuse. Then I rolled the bottle bomb across Norris’s cell floor until it came to rest under his bunk. He looked up, startled, stopping his lesson in constitutional law. He said, “What’s that?”

  I stood up, grabbing the handle of the bucket. I said, “That’s a bomb, Norris. It’s going to go off in about five seconds. You go ahead and sit there on your principles if you want to but I’m getting out of here before I get mine blown off.”

  Then I turned and started running up the walkway between the cells. As I passed Hays and Elizandro I said, “Come on!”

  Behind me I heard Norris yell, “Justa!”

  By then, though, I wasn’t paying him a whole hell of a lot of attention. I reckoned him to maybe have more sense than to sit on a bomb.

  7

  We got to the door. Hays and I knelt by its left side. We both got a match lit and then I bade Señor Elizandro to push the door open as far as he could without exposing himself. I said to Hays, “Light the short fuses first and then work your way up. We want to keep them going off in a steady run. And roll the damn bottles along the floor. Don’t throw them.”

  About then I felt a breath on the back of my neck and Norris saying, “Goddam you, Justa! I’m never going to forgive you for this. You—”

  But his words were drowned out by the explosion of the bomb I’d rolled under his bunk. It went off much louder than I’d expected. It went “KA-BOOM!” making the granite walls echo and reverberate like a thundercloud had turned loose in their midst. Unfortunately it was one of the ones I’d put the nails in and I could hear them singing around and wanging off the bars and the granite walls. I hoped none of the peons would get hit. I would have liked to have freed them, but it would have just complicated matters.

  By now Hays and I had both got a cigarillo lit and drawing and we commenced lighting fuses and rolling the bottles out into the outer office. I saw the desk sergeant turn, startled, and look toward our door. But it was a little late for his curiosity. While we were rolling out the last of the bombs the first began going off and I was considerably stunned by the effect they were having. The black powder would blow up, igniting the kerosene, and then you not only had an explosion, you had a sheet of flame rising up in all directions. On top of that there were the nails and the splinters of glass flying around.

  I was still crouched down. I said, “Get ready. Norris, the horses are across the street. Follow me and Hays.”

  I took the derringer out of Senor Elizandro’s hand. I had retained two of the short-fused bombs for the work at the outer door. Elizandro said, “You have my thanks, señor.”

  I said, ’I just hope your men have started their work.“ They were supposed to start firing at the troops outside as soon as they heard the sound of the first bomb.

  I waited another second for the flying nails and glass to subside a bit and then I went charging through the door. The outer office looked like hell. It was brighter than any room I’d ever seen. There was smoke and fire everywhere. I could see a few indistinct forms through the fog of cordite, but they looked confused and uncertain.

  But the desk sergeant was still standing there, his mouth open. I shot him twice with the derringer, then dropped the little gun and grabbed up the sergeant’s service revolver that was still lying on his desk and took several shots at some of the forms I could see through the smoke.

  We ran toward the front door. I had the two remaining bombs in my left hand and the lit cigarillo in my mouth. Hays shoved the big front door open as I lit one of the bombs, tossed it along the front of the building to my left, lit the other and tossed it to the right. Behind me I could hear a few gunshots being fired but none were coming my way. Through the open door I could hear the sound of heavy firing and I hoped that Elizandro’s men were doing a good job of covering fire.

  I waited an instant more until I heard the bombs go off and then I said, “Go!” and ran crouching through the door that Hays was holding open.

  I didn’t have to tell anyone to stay low. There was smoke and flames on both sides of me and I had to step over the body of one of the federales as I ran into the street. Across, I could see Elizandro’s men firing steadily at the front of the jail. I was running too fast to get a clear view, but I had the distinct impression of terrible carnage. Mostly I saw bodies laying in front of the jail, but here and there I caught a glimpse of a federale down on one knee, carbine to shoulder, firing back. In the middle of the street I stopped, letting the other three go on past me, and whirled and fired the last three remaining cartridges at the policemen. Then I threw the gun down and ran toward the corner where Ben was supposed to be.

  He was there, carbine to his shoulder, firing at the federal militia. He saw us coming and stopped long enough to pitch a pistol to Hays and then to throw my gun to me. I turned, knelt, and fired the full chamber of bullets at the remaining riflemen. When my revolver was empty I jammed it in my holster and whipped around to get horseback. I felt something hit my boot and felt a slight pain in my ankle, but I had no time for that. I could see that Jack had brought the horses up, rounding them off and pointing them north. I could see Norris and Hays getting mounted. Hays had turned in the saddle and was firing back over my head as I sprinted toward my own horse. Off to my right I could see that Senor Elizandro had made it to the safety of his own men who were continuing to faithfully lay down cov
ering fire. There would be no one coming out of the front door of that jail unless they were crazy.

  I reached my horse and swung into the saddle on the jittery animal. Ben was coming behind me. I said, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  And we began pounding down that dusty main street with onlookers lining the sidewalk gawking and staring. I heard what sounded like a few gunshots and felt the zing of something going over my head. I didn’t know if them nonparticipating parties along the way were stupid enough to get involved, but I pulled out my saddle gun and fired a few shots over their heads just to give them fair warning that we weren’t just funning.

  A block ahead I saw Lew with this Capitán Davilla. They were both in uniform. As we closed on them I could see Lew take Davilla’s horse on lead and begin slowly loping past. We came up to them and then he clapped spurs to his horse and fell into our rear at the same dead run we were going.

  The little street that turned west came up before I’d expected it, but I reined my horse in and swept us around its corner, still going almost full tilt. A few peons were lazing their way across the street, but they heard the thunder of our hooves, took one startled look and got the hell out of the way. In point of fact it was a wise decision on their part because we weren’t stopping for anything.

  I could not remember all the little twists and turns that Lew and I had mapped out, but I just kept us racing down those little narrow streets, turning this way and that but always heading west. The sound of gunshots was long past and all I had to do now was concentrate on getting us into open country and heading for cover. When I could I took a quick glance back over my shoulder, half dreading I might see an empty saddle. But they were all there, Hays and Jack just behind me, Norris behind Ben, and, bringing up the rear, Lew with Davilla on lead. The capitán was hunched over, looking mighty uncomfortable tied in his saddle the way Lew had trussed him up. I wasn’t shedding no sympathy on him.