Serpent Gate

by Michael McGarrity

  The hissing snakes whispered Paul Gillespie’s name in his ear. He would go west to Serpent Gate.

  He hurried down the tracks to the underpass. The cop never saw him. Cops were stupid—too dumb to realize that the train tracks were highways, just like roads, only better.

  The cast on his arm banged against his broken rib as he ran, but the pain didn’t bother him. He laughed until cold air rushed into his lungs and made him cough.

  • • •

  The snow at the top of the rise was too deep for the truck, so Nita and Kerney pushed ahead on foot. The storm had erased any footprints or tracks. Kerney scrutinized every drift they passed for telltale signs of Robert. He saw nothing. If Robert’s body was nearby, it wouldn’t be found until the first good thaw.

  The raw Arctic wind kept the temperature well below freezing, and the branches of the piñon and juniper trees cracked like gunshots as they snapped under the weight of the snow. Each step they took broke trail in the frozen crust, and they were knee-deep in drifts. Nita didn’t tire or falter, but Kerney had a hell of a time with his bad knee. The tendons and few remaining ligaments ached every time he pulled the leg free to take another step.

  The ridge ran at a right angle to the hills. At the top, Nita held them up. Without warning, the ridge sheared off, revealing a granite monolith standing in the middle of a narrow gorge. A rockfall closed off one end, and the only approach seemed to be through a shallow arroyo that ran up to the ridge.

  Kerney guessed the monolith to be fifty feet long and ten feet away from where he stood. He looked into the shadows and waited for his vision to adjust. Fifteen feet below the drop-off, a slender ledge ran along the length of the monolith. Above the ledge, at about the chest height of a small man, a duplicate of the serpent on Pop Shaffer’s fence had been chiseled in the stone. It was surrounded by images of birds, fish, and other symbols, including a horned demon.

  “How deep?” Kerney asked. The snow in the gorge stopped at the ledge of the monolith.

  “Less than twenty feet. Do you think you would have found it on your own?”

  “I probably would have fallen into it,” Kerney said. “What’s on the other side?”

  “More rock art and lots of rattlesnakes in the summer,” Nita answered. “It gets good sun, and the snakes like the heat. I don’t think Robert’s been here,” she added.

  “We’ll poke around anyway.”

  The wind died down and Kerney heard crunching sounds from behind. Out of the sun, two men were coming straight at them. Another man flanked them, cutting off any retreat. He saw weapons in their hands, and without thinking he pushed Nita over the ledge and jumped with her as the men opened fire. He crashed into a snow-covered shrub, branches whipping his face, and landed in a heavy cushion of snow.

  He scrambled to the ledge of the monolith, grabbed Nita by the hand, and pulled her to him.

  “Move,” he hissed, freeing his handgun. “Get to the other side, out of sight.”

  Nita gave him a petrified look. He pushed her to get her started. Automatic rounds sprayed the gully as he turned the corner. Nita was off the ledge, standing waist-deep in a drift.

  “What is it?” Nita asked. “What’s happening?” It was all she could think to say.

  “Don’t talk.”

  The gorge was wider on the back side of the monolith, where the arroyo had eroded the ridge. Kerney heard the thud of two men dropping into the gorge, and looked for cover. Below the ledge circling the monolith was a crevice large enough for one person. He yanked Nita by the hand, forced her down, and shoved her into it.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Curl up in a ball and be quiet,” he said. “I’ll come back for you.” He pushed her knees to her chest and piled snow over her, trying to make the mound look as natural as possible.

  He held his breath and listened. Nothing. Three men were coming at him from front and back, and there was no place to hide.

  The mound covering the crevice was in deep shadows. Maybe they wouldn’t spot Nita; maybe she could survive.

  A small conical cedar tree stood at the far end of the monolith, where sunlight had yet to reach. Kerney eyed it. About the height of a man, the tree would be the first thing a shooter would see coming around the front end of the monolith.

  Kerney took off his coat, went to the tree, wrapped the garment around it, and buttoned it up. At a quick glance, it might pass for a standing man. With his back against the monolith, he hunkered down and waited, listening for footfalls in the crusted snow, scanning left and right. He saw a long shadow flicker on the snow beyond the cedar tree. The shadow appeared again as the silhouette of a man.

  Automatic fire ripped through Kerney’s coat. When the man stepped into view, Kerney shot him twice in the chest, checked his flank, and ran to the snow-filled arroyo that sliced into the side of the ridge. With any luck, he could belly-crawl to the top of the ridge without being seen, and swing behind his pursuers.

  • • •

  Delfino kept Carlos in front of him as they moved slowly along the ledge of the monolith, following the tracks left by Kerney and the woman. He stopped at the sound of Felix’s Uzi and the two answering shots that followed. He waited for Felix to fire again. All was silent.

  “Something’s wrong,” Delfino said. He dropped off the ledge, stepped past Carlos, and chanced a quick look around the corner. He spotted Felix’s prone body near a coat wrapped around a tree. There was no sign of the gringo or the woman.

  “Felix is down,” Delfino said, turning the corner.

  Carlos followed and stopped by a mound of snow that filled a small crevice under the ledge. Ahead, Felix sprawled on his back, not moving, the Uzi clutched in both hands.

  “He’s dead,” Carlos said.

  “We can still cut them off,” Delfino replied. “They must be up ahead. Go back the way we came, and circle around.”

  Delfino glanced down and saw only one set of footprints in the snow—Kerney’s tracks. Where did the woman go? Before he could look to find her hiding place, Carlos shot him in the back of the head.

  Smiling, Carlos picked up Delfino’s Uzi, holstered his pistol, and retreated. Now that the odds were even, he would follow Delfino’s advice, backtrack around the monolith, find Kerney, and kill him.

  • • •

  Kerney winced when he heard the pistol shot. He cursed himself for leaving Nita behind, reversed his crawl, and scanned from low to high ground as he moved down the arroyo. The sun was higher in the sky, but the monolith cast a fat shadow, and he could clearly see only the dead man by the tree, where his bullet-shredded winter coat flapped in a light breeze.

  As far as he knew, two more men were still in the gorge, setting up a crossfire, which would be the smart thing to do. The arroyo gave him cover only if he stayed prone and low. He wanted to get up and make a dash to Nita. He forced himself to wait. The men stalking him controlled the action. All he could hope to do was counterpunch and survive.

  Cold and soaked to the skin, he burrowed into the snow and tried not to shiver.

  • • •

  Carlos worked his way slowly and quietly through the snow until he reached the end of the monolith. Darkness still lingered in the constricted ravine, but the sun was in his face every time he glanced up.

  He took one more look at the ridgetop, and a snowball hit him in the face. He squinted into the sun, and started firing the Uzi at the moving shape above. It vanished before he could focus on it. He stepped forward to fire again and a bullet tore through his stomach and shattered his spine. He took another bullet in the chest as he fell.

  Carlos hit the ground and Kerney ran in a low crouch, zigzagging past the dead man by the tree, waiting for bullets to tear into him. He made it to Nita’s hiding place and found another man with the back of his skull blown open, the snow around his head icy pink.

  He dropped his handgun, dug into the mound with both hands, and pulled Nita out of the crevice. She was pale, shaky
on her feet, but unhurt.

  “My God,” she said, staring at the body. She started to cry.

  “Not now,” Kerney said sharply. “Robert is out there somewhere. Find him.”

  She nodded and began to move. Kerney left her and went to check on Carlos.

  Carlos lay on his back staring into the sun until a shadow passed over his face. He felt the Uzi being pulled from his hands. He blinked and saw Kerney leaning over him.

  “You’re a hard man to kill, gringo,” he said.

  “You’re dying, Carlos.”

  “I was going to die today, anyway.”

  “Is that why you killed one of your partners?” Kerney asked.

  Carlos nodded and coughed up blood.

  “Where is Nick Palazzi?”

  “He fucked up, just like me. DeLeon had me kill him.”

  “And Amanda Talley, did you do her, too?”

  “I never killed such a beautiful woman before.”

  “Where’s her body?”

  “No more body. Gone.”

  “What about Gilbert Martinez?”

  “I thought it was you, gringo. I really wanted you dead.”

  “You’ve been a busy boy, Carlos.”

  Carlos gurgled once and died.

  “Did you kill them all yourself?” Robert asked.

  Kerney wheeled to find Robert and Nita at his side. Frozen snot hung from Robert’s nose. He wiped it away with a sleeve.

  “No,” Kerney answered.

  “Did you kill one of them, Addie?” Robert’s eyes were jumpy and big as saucers.

  Nita stiffened as though she’d taken a body blow. “No.”

  “Yes, you did,” Robert said, inclining his head. “I saw his body over there. You killed the motherfucker.”

  Kerney eyed the crazy grin on Robert’s face. “Do you need a ride to jail, Robert?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Let’s go.” Kerney led Nita and Robert away from Serpent Gate.

  14

  Kerney drove to the highway and found a car blocking their way through the ranch road gate. He keyed the handheld radio, made contact with the state police officer he’d left at the Shaffer Hotel, reported the shoot-out, and requested a tow truck.

  “Send a snowplow also,” he added as an afterthought. “We’ll need the road cleared to the crime scene.”

  “And an ambulance,” Nita said as she dropped Robert’s boots on the floorboard.

  Robert was in the back of the extended cab. Kerney looked over his shoulder. Robert’s feet were badly frostbitten.

  Kerney relayed the message.

  “Get me some snow,” Nita said.

  He got out of the truck and passed handfuls of snow to Nita, who rubbed it on Robert’s bare feet. Robert howled, kicked wildly, and tried to fight his way out of the truck. Kerney popped the driver’s seat forward on its tracks and pinned Robert down while Nita finished the job.

  “How bad?” he asked.

  Nita answered with a wary shrug.

  The ambulance arrived with the state police unit. Kerney carried Robert to the vehicle. He struggled fiercely as Kerney put him on the gurney. It took all of his strength to hold Robert while the paramedics strapped him into the restraints.

  Robert screamed in protest.

  The ambulance pulled away for the trip to Albuquerque just as a tow truck arrived. Kerney looked around for Nita. She was in her 4 x 4, behind the steering wheel. He walked to her and she rolled down the window.

  “Did you hear what Robert said to me?” she asked, without looking at Kerney. Her eyes were fixed on something—or nothing—outside the windshield.

  “I may have missed it.”

  Nita kept looking away. Her hands gripped the steering wheel and her knuckles were white. “He said he raped me.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I think he believes it.”

  “Gillespie left a lot of victims behind.”

  “Addie is going to come and live with me, at least until my trial is over,” she said without emotion.

  “That’s good.” Kerney watched the officer guide the tow truck into position behind the car.

  Slowly Nita switched her attention to Kerney. Her eyes were empty. “Do I have to stay here?”

  “You can leave as soon as the way is clear,” Kerney said.

  “Who were those men?”

  “Killers hired by a Mexican drug lord. They were after me, not you.”

  “Have you killed men before?”

  Kerney didn’t reply. The rear wheels of the car were off the ground. The operator stopped the winch, got in the truck, and pulled the vehicle out of the way.

  “It’s not a good feeling, is it?” Nita added, directing the question to herself.

  Kerney answered anyway. “It never is, and never should be.”

  “Can I go now?” Nita asked.

  Kerney nodded. A highway department snowplow came over the hill and stopped at the side of the road.

  Nita smiled stiffly. “I guess I’ll see you in court someday, Mr. Kerney.”

  “Someday you will, Ms. Lassiter.”

  Nita drove away and the patrol officer brought Kerney a jacket to wear. He put it on and went to the cruiser to get warm, while the officer talked to the snowplow operator. The driver dropped the blade and started the truck down the ranch road.

  Kerney thought about the three dead men in the snow, and about Nita, Robert, Addie, Paul Gillespie, and Serpent Gate. He wondered if Robert would ever go back there again, and if Nita would be able to leave it behind for good.

  • • •

  The morning after the gunfight at Serpent Gate, Kerney found his way to a new residential subdivision off Airport Road. The houses were pueblo-style one- and two-story structures on small lots. He parked at the curb in front of the Martinez family home.

  Gilbert had only recently bought the house and moved in. It had yet to be landscaped, and snow covered the raw patch of land surrounding the house. Railroad ties were stacked against the side of the garage. Kerney wondered, now that Gilbert was dead, who would build the flower beds and plant the trees and shrubs when warm weather returned. The thought made his gut feel like a lead ball.

  He got out and rang the doorbell.

  Sandra Martinez, Gilbert’s widow, used the partially open front door as a barrier, and studied the stranger standing on the porch.

  “What is it?”

  She had dark, intelligent eyes, a grief-filled face, and spoke in a drained voice.

  “Mrs. Martinez, I’m Kevin Kerney.”

  Sandra’s hand tightened on the doorknob. She forced back a response, while the man who should have been killed instead of her husband looked at her.

  “Is there anything I can do for you or your family?” Kerney asked.

  “No,” Sandra said. “Thank you for stopping by.” She closed the door in his face.

  Kerney hesitated before ringing the bell again. After a minute, it grudgingly opened.

  “Mrs. Martinez—” he said.

  Sandra raised a shaky hand to cut him off, and her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard. “I know you came here with good intentions.”

  “I liked and respected your husband very much.”

  She forced a thin, dry smile. “Gilbert liked you, too.”

  “I feel responsible for your loss.”

  “You may be responsible, but you can’t make amends for it, can you?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Then there’s nothing more to say.” She slowly closed the door again.

  • • •

  Andy stuck his head inside the conference room and found Kerney pecking away at the keyboard of an old computer that he’d scrounged from supply.

  “Paperwork?” Andy asked.

  “I’m just finishing up.”

  “I can get you a new computer, Kerney. All you have to do is ask.”

  “This one will do for now.” Kerney hit a function key. The printer wh
ined as it fed a sheet of paper into the rollers.

  “DeLeon has left Mexico,” Andy said.

  “Where is he?”

  Andy shrugged. “The Mexican authorities say they don’t know. And if they do, they aren’t telling. They did identify the two hit men DeLeon sent after you.”

  “So quickly?”

  “Both were former federal intelligence agents cashiered for being on the cartel’s pad. They’re wanted on multiple murder charges. It seems they assassinated a judge, a prosecutor, and a district police commissioner in Chihuahua.”

  “Nasty boys.”

  “The Mexican government is sending you a citation.”

  “I don’t want it,” Kerney said gruffly. The printer spit out a sheet of paper. Kerney plucked it out of the tray and gave it to Andy.

  Andy read it. It was an official request to award the police medal of valor posthumously to Sergeant Gilbert Martinez. “Would you like to make the presentation to Gilbert’s widow?” he asked.

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Stop blaming yourself, Kerney. What happened to Gilbert wasn’t your fault.”

  “That’s not the way Sandra Martinez sees it.”

  Andy studied Kerney’s face and decided to drop the subject. “Are you planning to stick around for a while? I’ve got six major cases I need you to bird-dog. And I don’t want you creating a vacancy Vance Howell can fill.”

  Kerney cracked a small smile. “You think the governor would dump Howell on you if I left?”

  “In the blink of an eye.”

  “Are you catching any flak from Springer?”

  “Not yet. The department has gotten too much good press lately. But the word is out on the governor’s staff that I’m insubordinate and not a team player. My reputation is getting as bad as yours.”

  “I’ve worked hard to build that reputation, Andy. Don’t butt in on my turf. Are you going to stick it out?”

  “Hell, yes, I am. I took this job because I wanted to do some good. I need you to watch my back while I push my budget through the legislature.”

  “Do you think Springer might torpedo the budget as a payback for busting his nephew?”