Renegade - 13

by Joe Nobody

  “What are we doing?” Bishop finally asked.

  “Setting bait,” grunted the old rancher.

  They roped a calf easily enough, securing the baying animal to a nearby fence post. Bishop remembered almost crying when his dad chased off the hovering mother, the heifer trying to remain near her baby.

  “Are we going to let the lion eat the calf?” Bishop had asked through watering eyes.

  “No, son. We’re going to shoot the lion when it comes for dinner. I know this looks cruel, but just think about how many calves we’re going to be saving.”

  As darkness fell, the baby grew more frightened, its pitiful pleas sounding across the desert floor. Bishop remembered feeling sorry for the tethered little thing.

  Twice, Bishop’s dad had to move the truck. “The wind just shifted. That extra-large feline won’t come near our lure if it gets a whiff of us.”

  For hours, Bishop’s dad sat on the hood of the old Ford, his eyes and ears reaching out into the desert, hoping to turn the hunter into the hunted.

  Bishop fell asleep in the front seat at some point, only to be awakened by a change in the roped calf’s tone. The young animal was getting more agitated, its cries growing desperate.

  “Get by the switch and turn on the lights when I tell you to,” Bishop’s father had ordered. “Be alert now. Do it when I say.” Even to the young boy, it was obvious Bishop’s dad was on edge, the rancher’s posture taut with anticipation, rifle always in his hand.

  For his part, a herd of elephants couldn’t have pulled Bishop’s hand off that light switch.

  The calf was now frenzied, whining and baying in the distance. While it was too dark to see the terrified animal, Bishop’s imagination had little trouble picturing it tugging like crazy on the rope, darting side to side in hopes of escaping certain death.

  “Now!” Bishop’s dad hissed in a surprisingly quiet voice.

  Bishop tugged on the switch, the rattletrap old pickup’s high beams glaring across the sand. There, 80 yards away, were the cat’s evil, glowing eyes.

  Before Bishop could even inhale, his dad’s lever-action rifle roared next to the truck.

  The shot was accurate, the cat initially jerking almost straight into the air as the round struck its midsection. Before the wounded predator could spin to run, Bishop’s dad worked his weapon, shouldered the wooden stock, and fired again.

  The beast fell, rolling over twice in the sand as its muscles still tried to comply with the last commands issued by its now-numb brain.

  “You stay back here in the truck,” Bishop’s dad commanded. “That animal might still have a bit of fight in it.”

  With eager eyes peering over the dash, the young boy watched as his dad cautiously approached his nemesis, rifle high and ready to engage. A minute later, after nudging the cat with his boot, Bishop was summoned with a wave of his father’s arm. “It’s safe,” he called. “Come on over.”

  Now, as he drove through downtown San Antonio’s traffic, Bishop realized that he needed to set a trap, just like his father had done so long ago.

  Whether it was one gang or different groups committing the crimes … whether a powerful criminal like Cameron Lewis was funding the operation or the men had served together overseas … none of that was really that important at the moment. Someone had targeted Pete’s take, and it was only logical that they would return for another attempt at the golden ring.

  Arriving at the eatery, Bishop noticed a line of people waiting to get inside. The queue stretched for over a block, dozens and dozens of hungry patrons waiting for a good meal at a fair price.

  “We’re going to need two SUVs to haul this much cash,” the Texan mumbled. “I sure hope our friendly neighborhood felons don’t show up tonight.”

  As he stepped into the restaurant, a powerful light illuminated the parking lot, the Texan reaching for the .45 automatic in his belt. Realizing it was a television crew setting up to do a story, Bishop relaxed.

  He stood by and watched as Pete approached the newscaster, a microphone shoved into his face, and began answering questions about the establishment.

  Twice, Bishop had to move out of the way, the panning camera moving to show viewers the line waiting to get inside. “I don’t need to be on television,” Bishop grumbled.

  It then occurred to him that such a broadcast might be useful.

  The mountain lion had heard the cries of the tethered calf. The big cat had smelled the sacrificial animal’s fear. Bishop’s father had used nature’s own broadcasting network to set the bait.

  Doubting that the crooks could smell or hear susceptible cash shipments, Bishop needed a way to communicate a vulnerability and to make it very tempting. Was the recently restored medium of television the way to advertise a weakness?

  Rubbing his chin in thought, the Texan hovered around, waiting for his employer to finish the interview. He needed to talk to Pete about his idea. It was the boss’s money and manpower that would be at risk, and besides, the retired cop might come up with a few suggestions of his own. A sting was a sting, be it in post-apocalyptic Texas, or pre-collapse Philly.

  Five minutes later, Pete shook hands with the newshound and sauntered toward the pub. Bishop intercepted him well before the entrance.

  “Hey boss, you got a second?”

  Grinning, Pete nodded, “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I’ve got a crazy, dangerous idea, and wanted to bounce it off you before you get all wrapped up inside.”

  The owner’s grin broadened into a full-fledged smile. “Sounds fun.”

  It took Bishop less than three minutes to explain his scheme. “If we can draw them out, it’s going to improve our chances of ending their lives of crime.”

  Brightening, it was Pete’s turn to be inspired. Peeking over Bishop’s shoulder at the news crew, he observed them packing for several seconds before suggesting, “What if I were going to allocate a massive infusion of cash into Diana’s campaign? As close as this election is , do you think those reporters would be interested in covering that story?”

  Blinking several times before he caught on, Bishop nodded vigorously. “Oh, that’s good. That is damn good, sir.”

  “You think Terri can get Diana down here to the restaurant tonight?”

  Bishop replied, “For a substantial contribution, I bet she could. Let me run back over to the gym and explain what’s going on.”

  “Meantime, I will tell the news hounds not to leave. I’ll spin it that since they were so professional during the interview I’m feeling big-hearted, and I wanted to let them in on a scoop.”

  Bishop turned to leave but then paused. “Are you really going to give Diana a colossal chunk of change, or is this all for show? She’ll ask me that, you know.”

  Pete laughed, “Yes, I’ve been planning on helping her out for a few weeks now. I’m not a huge fan of Governor Young’s proposals, and besides, Diana smoked him tonight. Everybody likes a winner – right?”

  “You bet, boss. I’ll be back shortly,” Bishop said.

  A few minutes later, the Texan sped back toward the gym, hoping to make the trip before Diana left the building. He arrived just in time, the Alliance’s leader preparing to board her coach just as Bishop sprinted up to the gathering.

  Diana was holding court in front of a battery of reporters, complete with pulsing flashbulbs and shouted questions. Terri was standing behind the candidate, still aglow with the mastery of her friend’s performance.

  There was no way Bishop could reach his wife, the route completely blocked by the throng of newsmen reinforced by Diana’s anxious security detail.

  Waving and shouting from the edge of the crowd, the Texan was lucky to get Terri’s attention.

  Sensing it was important, Terri worked her way to him. “Don’t let her get on that bus,” Bishop stated in a breathless rush. “Pete has agreed to contribute a lot of money and wants Diana to come by his restaurant and accept the donation in person. Tonight. Now.”

  In
itially brightening at the news, Terri took a few moments before she asked, “That’s great, but why can’t she get on the bus? She’s beat.”

  In a rush of words, Bishop explained the bait and trap he and Pete were setting. “We need as much press on this as we can get. Have her make a quick announcement. Tell all the reporters where she is going, and why.”

  For a second, Terri flashed concern. “We can’t put Diana in any danger.”

  Shaking his head, Bishop said, “It’s not her we’re putting in danger. It will be you.”

  That remark brought a deeper level of concern. “Me? What the hell, Bishop?”

  “Don’t worry. Grim and I, along with a bunch of security people will keep you safe. Those crooks are killing people and ruining lives. Trust me; this is the best way to take them down.”

  Finally nodding her agreement, Terri stepped to Diana’s side, and after a few whispered exchanges, the candidate turned to the press corps and broadcast, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve just been informed of a new development. Pete’s Pizzeria on the Riverwalk has communicated to my staff that they are making a significant contribution to our campaign. After I leave you this evening, I’m going to visit this fine establishment and accept the donation.”

  With that, Diana turned, winked at Terri, and then boarded her bus. Bishop and his wife followed, content to be away from the explosion of camera flashes.

  After the Texan had explained the situation to the girls, Diana thought the entire idea was brilliant. Looking at Terri, she said, “And if this works, we can even advertise that we played a small role in helping solve the crime.”

  Rolling his eyes, Bishop chuckled, “Sure enough, Lady Colombo.”

  Bishop trailed Diana’s motorcade to Pete’s Pub, the Texan last in the long line of police escorts, security SUVs, and the tag-along press.

  Pete, as planned, had taken what would have been the stagecoach deposit and filled three clear, gallon-sized plastic bags to the brim with money. Bishop had to hand it to the old barkeep – he knew how to put on a show.

  Twenty minutes later, a fresh-looking Diana appeared at the same spot in the parking lot, taking her turn to squint under the bright television lights.

  Having prepared a short speech, Pete made quite the show over presenting Diana’s campaign the sizable contribution. “I’ve known Miss Brown since those horrible days right after the collapse. She has always shown excellent leadership, bravery, and moral conduct. I’ve seen her fight with a rifle and a pen, always for the sake of liberty, always for the sake of the common man. So it is with great pleasure that I make this contribution to her effort. The Alliance needs four more years with a woman like Diana Brown!”

  Bishop, Terri, and the small crowd of onlookers all clapped as loud as possible, hoping the viewers at home would think it was a major event.

  After shaking Pete’s hand, Diana took her turn at the microphone, touting Pete’s patriotic spirit and business acumen. It was all great television.

  With a nudge from Bishop, while the cameras were still rolling, Terri appeared onscreen, helping Diana move the unruly bags of dough out of the way.

  “We will put these funds to good work,” Diana informed Pete, smiling to the audience. “From the panhandle to the great piney woods, your generosity will ensure that I get to meet more of our fellow Texans and help me to understand their needs as the recovery moves forward. Thank you!”

  Pete got a kiss on the cheek, as well as a huge hug. Bishop wondered if the ex-cop’s blushing red face would show up on television screens at home.

  Then it was over, the news crew thanking everyone as they turned off their cameras and began packing up their equipment.

  “Why did you want me to go on screen and take the money?” Terri asked her husband.

  “I wanted anyone watching to think that Diana will be carrying the cash in her convoy. We probably wouldn’t have any fish nibbling on the bait if the crooks thought that money was going right into a bank.”

  Nodding her understanding, Terri said, “Okay, Mr. Mousetrap Guy, what now?”

  “Now,” Bishop sighed, “we wait for the robbers.”

  Chapter 14

  “Where is Diana’s next important event?” Bishop asked.

  Terri had the agenda memorized. “The convoy is rolling for Wichita Falls this morning after breakfast. Diana is speaking at the grand opening of a pickle factory.”

  Sure he hadn’t heard her correctly, Bishop turned from the skillet of scrambled eggs and said, “Huh? Did you say pickle factory?”

  Nodding over her cup of tea, Terri smiled, “Yup, that is exactly what I said.”

  Returning to his culinary effort, Bishop waited for the punch line. When it didn’t come, he chuckled and said, “Okay. I give up. Why a pickle factory?”

  “Why is someone opening a pickle factory, or why is Diana speaking there?”

  “Both.”

  Sighing, Terri replied, “Pickling is a wonderful way to preserve cucumbers and other veggies without refrigeration. The council sponsored the reopening of the factory when they discovered that a significant portion of the Alliance’s produce was going to waste. A lot of the territory doesn’t have reliable power just yet, and everyone thought it was a shame to let precious food rot. Diana is speaking there because the plant is going to be hiring almost 100 new workers. Seemed like a positive environment for a political speech.”

  “Okay, I guess that makes sense,” Bishop nodded, bringing his bride a plate full of scrambled deliciousness. “Does that mean we can play hide-the-pickle while we’re there?” he added with an intense eyebrow waggle.

  It took her a second to catch on, her eventual response a cobra-like swat at his arm. “You’re a pervert. Your mind is always on one thing, and one thing only.”

  Gazing down at her sheer nightgown, he quipped, “Can you seriously blame a guy?”

  Glancing innocently at her nightie, she laughed, “Believe me; this wasn’t dill-liberate.”

  Bishop, ignoring her play on words, toyed seductively with the nearly transparent cloth, twisting it around his index finger, moving behind her and whispering in her ear, “Still, you are one brine looking woman.”

  She pushed him away, trying desperately not to laugh. “Stop that! Hunter will be up any minute, and it wouldn’t be Kosher if he caught us in the act.”

  “Foiled again by our little gherkin,” Bishop chuckled, returning to the stove.

  If I laugh, he won’t stop this madness, Terri told herself. Don’t do it! Finally, she managed to retrieve her composure and inquired, “Seriously, Bishop, why were you asking about Diana’s next event?”

  “Because that’s when they’ll try to steal Pete’s contribution.”

  Frowning, Terri didn’t understand where he was coming from. “School me,” she said.

  Bishop leaned over to the RV’s window and parted a couple of the blinds. There, outside, stood all 350 pounds of vigilant Butter, complete with M4 carbine, a load vest full of spare mags, and a combat knife long enough to have been a sword in some armies. The kid was circling in a racetrack pattern, making sure neither man nor beast stepped close to Terri’s coach.

  Less than 50 meters away, two of Nick’s security team were patrolling the perimeter, their German Shephard tugging steadily on its leash.

  “Look past the shower building … up in that tall elm tree,” Bishop said.

  Terri noted a man high in the branches, a sniper rifle in his arms. Bishop continued, “There’s no way anybody tries to breach Diana’s security here … at least not without a full armored battalion. It just ain’t going to happen.”

  Nodding, Terri now understood. “But when Diana heads to speak, there are more variables and opportunities. That’s when they will try!”

  “At least, that’s how I would do it,” Bishop conceded. “And I’m finding these robbers think more like I do than a common, dumbass criminal.”

  “So, they’re perverts, too?”

  Before he could re
spond, a light rap sounded at the camper’s door. “That would be Pug,” Bishop stated, slightly annoyed that he wouldn’t have a chance to defend himself. Grabbing his wife and pulling her in a close embrace he quickly kissed her and whispered in her ear, “The sacrifices I make for this Republic. I’ll stall him while you dress.”

  Terri hustled for the back, mumbling something about a girl not getting any warning, then adding a curse about her lack of makeup.

  Bishop waited until his wife was out of sight, and then answered the door and waved his employee inside. “Morning, Pug. Cup of coffee? Tea?”

  “No thank you, sir. I have to be heading into the restaurant shortly, but I did manage to finish the assignment you gave me.”