“And … ?” Lady Lou asked.
“We always talk about takin’ care of our own … ’bout time we lived up to that mouth.”
“I know some ol’ boys live not far from Fort Stockton,” Panty Snatcher said. “I’ll give them a call.”
“Good,” Lou said. “Tell ’em all they have to do is look for a goddamned Christmas tree rollin’ through the night.”
Soft yet tough laughter in the night. Lady Lou seldom cussed. A sure sign she was made as hell.
“What ol’ boys you know down there?” Snake asked.
“Dolittle, Shiny Hiney, Montana.”
“Pretty tough ol’ boys, all right,” Grits agreed. “And since they all about to lose their trucks to the banks, they won’t mind tearin’ ’em up helpin’ someone.”
Panty Snatcher grinned. “That’s what I mean.”
“Let’s get some sleep,” Jim ordered. “We still got to get to Tacoma.”
“Yeah,” Kate said, her eyes searching the void of night for her man. “And then to Texas.”
Utah Slim was, so far, true to his word. Barry even slept for a few hours. When he awakened, they were on the right road, holding true, heading for Texas. And for the first showdown with what Barry had called the ultimate evil.
“Want me to take it?” Barry asked.
“I’ll take her on down to Shiprock, hand it over to you there. I’ll sleep ’til Albuquerque, then relieve you.”
Barry poured them coffee from a Stanley thermos, handing Slim a cup.
They sipped and rode in silence for a few miles. It seemed to Barry that Slim wanted to talk but didn’t know quite how to start. “Something on your mind, Slim?”
“Yeah. But right off the bat I’ll say I ain’t gonna offer up any excuses for what we done.”
“No one asked for any.”
“You really mean it when you said I could walk free when this is over?”
“Yes. I gave my word. But we’re going to destroy all those so-called medical centers. And there is a good chance none of us will walk away from any of it.”
“I heard that. Don’t make no difference to me. Not now, no ways. Tell you the truth, I feel like I just took a shower and come out clean. That make any sense to you?”
“Yes.”
“I backed into it. Pure blind greed. Easy money. And that ain’t excuses. Just the truth.” He reached for his wallet and fumbled out a piece of paper, handing it to Barry. “Read it, Mr. Rivers.”
“How about making it Barry, Slim?”
“Suits me. You’ll see that thing ain’t signed. But you can see the direction I was tryin’ to head.”
Barry read the poorly typed paper. It was what Slim had told them, back at the motel. The paper was not heavily creased, so he had not been carrying it long.
“If your … friends, for want of a better word, had found you with this, they’d have killed you, Slim.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Why did you write this?”
“ ’Cause I was gettin’ disgusted with myself. I wanted out, but I didn’t know how to do it.”
The man’s voice was chocked and emotion-charged. Barry believed him. It would take a slimy sort to take in the business of human grief for very long and not feel dirty. “I believe you, Slim.”
“There ain’t one livin’ soul to give a shit whether or not I live or die. But before I do die, I wanna do something.”
“Something right, for a change?” Barry asked.
“I think it’s right.” Utah Slim reached down between the seats.
Barry tensed.
When Slim’s hand reappeared, he had his fingers wrapped around the butt of a .38. With a smile, he pointed the muzzle at Barry.
24
“Careless of me, wasn’t it, Slim?” Barry asked, feeling he was only seconds away from getting a hot slug tearing through his guts.
“Yeah, it was.” Slim reversed the weapon and handed it, butt-first, to Barry. “No offense meant, Barry, but I been tryin’ to get Kate’s jeans off for years. Me and a lot of other ol’ boys. If she picked you, then you’re one hell of a good man. I’m honored to roll with you.”
Barry smiled. “Put the gun in your pocket, Slim. I got a hunch you’re going to need it before this is over.”
Slim nodded. “Finally got me a straight-shootin’ partner. I’ll stick, Barry. Don’t never doubt it.”
“What happens now?” Barry asked. “Do you kiss me?”
Slim looked startled; then a slow grin spread over his rugged face.
Both men spent the next couple of miles laughing.
As they drove, stopping only when they absolutely had to do it—food, fuel, scales—Barry and Slim firmed up their plans.
Slim was returning from a legit run up to Billings. He was to take his time and eventually wind his way down to Van Horn, Texas. He was to receive instructions there, general delivery at the post office.
“Any idea where you might go?” Barry asked.
“Oh, yeah. Just north of the Big Bend. Not far from 385. Soon as I pick up the load of Mexicans, I’ll cut north on 285 and head for Colorado. There’s one of them centers there.”
“When we get through destroying your past employer’s little playhouse in south Texas, we’ll deal with the center in Colorado.”
“That suits me just fine, Barry. But I gotta warn you, we’re gonna be two against about twenty.”
“Hell, Slim, we got them outnumbered!”
The truck drivers gathered at a rest area on Interstate 10, in Texas. They took their thermos bottles of coffee and sacks of sandwiches to a table away from tourists out of four-wheelers and sipped and ate and quietly talked.
“It’s a damned disgrace,” Horsefly said. “I still can’t believe all that Panty Snatcher told me.”
“I can believe it,” Dolittle said. “It all fits with the bits and pieces of rumors we’ve all heard over the past couple of years.”
“That we been ignorin’.” Montana spoke the words bitterly.
“We had no way of knowin’ that any of it was true,” Horsefly replied. “Now that we know that it is, we can by God do something about it.”
“Panty Snatcher spoke real highly of this Barry Rivers. Must be a hell of a man for that old grump to think that much of him.”
“Married Kate, didn’t he?” Dolittle said with a grin, knowing he was rubbing a tender spot.
“I don’t even wanna think about that,” Montana said glumly.
“And Lady Lou said he was one hell of a nice guy.” Shiny Hiney spoke around a mouthful of sandwich. “And she don’t speak too highly of too many men.”
“I’ve done some shitty things in my life,” Horsefly spoke. “But anybody that would do what Panty Snatcher told us about is a lowlife son of a bitch.”
“All right, all right!” Montana said impatiently. “Let’s quit waltzin’ around and get to it. Rivers and Utah Slim will be in this area in about eight hours. We got to get organized and plan this thing out.” He spread a map on the table. He put a blunt finger on a spot. “Right there is where we’ll meet ’em. I’d rather wreck my rig than give it back to the bank. Hell, I might even give the damn thing to them wetbacks and let them take it back to Mexico. I’ll say it was stole.”
“I was gonna do that!” Horsefly said.
“Well, we’ll both do it. Who cares? You guys go on back and kiss your wives and girlfriends good-bye and get your guns. We gonna kick ass and take names.”
Barry and Slim pulled into a rest area and slept for several hours before checking the post office for instructions. Barry stayed in the sleeper, out of sight in case they might be watched. Slim climbed back in and rolled out on Highway 90.
When they were outside Van Horn, Barry climbed back into his seat. Slim handed him the letter. Barry read it and handed it back. “Short and to the point, Slim.”
“Yeah. Now it gets dangerous, Barry. We’re gonna be sittin’ ducks out there at that roadside park. And I’m gonna
tell you something: There ain’t nothin’ between Marathon and Sanderson except miles and miles of nothin’.”
“So if they smell anything out of the ordinary, they’ll kill us and split?”
“You got that right.”
“Pickup truck coming up behind us,” Barry said, checking the mirror.
“Might be one of our contacts. You better get in the sleeper, Barry.”
Barry had just hit the bunk when the CB squawked. “Any word on how it’s lookin’ up ahead?”
“Ain’t heard a peep,” Slim radioed back.
“You mind if I stay in the rockin’ chair?” the driver of the pickup asked.
“Not a bit.”
“What’s your handle?”
“Slim.”
“I’m T-Bone.”
“That’s our contact,” Slim called over his shoulder. “Stay out of sight, Barry. I’m goin’ to 39.”
He moved to channel 39 and pulled out the mike jack, inserting another.
“Scrambler mike?” Barry asked.
“Right. This ain’t no two-bit outfit, Barry. Guy who runs it is connected pretty well with the government.”
“Yeah,” Barry said bitterly. “I know him.”
“No shit? Well, you don’t know much of a man. He likes the little Mexican girls. Jack Morris is one sorry son of a bitch.”
“I’m finding that out. How little a girl does he like?”
“Real young.” He spat out the window in disgust. “I don’t understand that type of man.”
“He isn’t a man. He’s a … ” Barry paused. “I don’t know what he is. Sorry is too good a word for him.”
“I heard that. Lemme jaw with this dude, find out what’s goin’ down.
“I’m set,” Slim radioed.
“Any trouble?”
“None at all. Everything smooth so far. You expectin’ any trouble?”
“Maybe,” the voice radioed back. “Did you know you stayed at the same motel with those SSTs from Rivers Trucking?”
“Yeah. I seen ’em. They broke regs and pulled out around midnight.” Slim held up one hand and crossed his fingers for luck.
“That jibes with what I heard. But Rivers is no dummy. The boss says he’s figured some of it out. But Rivers is in for a surprise. I don’t know what kind of surprise, but I bet you it involves that blonde broad he married.”
Slim looked over his shoulder, his face mirroring his shock and panic.
Barry felt a sickness in his guts. He motioned for Slim to continue talking.
“Yeah?” Slim said. “Well, that’s her problem. I just don’t want her problem to become my problem. You know what I mean?”
“I heard that. Well, we got time to get clear of the state before it goes down. Whatever it is that’s going down.”
“Gonna happen in Texas,” Slim said to Barry. He keyed his mike. “How could Rivers give us any trouble? He’s clear up in Washington State.”
“I don’t know. The boss don’t tell me everything, man. OK, Slim, I’m clear. I’ll see you next run. Have a good one.”
Slim watched as the pickup slowed, pulled over on the shoulder, and turned around, heading back toward Van Horn.
Barry slipped into his seat just as the sun was sinking toward dusk. “I gather there were code words you could have used if you were in trouble?”
“Right. Everything’s all right. Barry, you got to call your people; warn them that they’re due for some trouble.”
“How, Slim? Beer Butt’s taking my place. He’ll be in the sleeper while they load. The others will tell the guards I’ve got the flu, the contagious kind, and to stay away. I call up there and someone’s liable to smell a rat.”
“Shit!” Slim summed it up.
Barry checked his map. “We’ll be at the pickup point in about three and a half hours.”
“Yeah. If we don’t get behind some Sunday driver. But we might have to sit there and wait for two, three hours.” He changed out the scrambler mike for the original, and normal CB chatter resumed.
Both men perked up their ears.
“Hey, Montana!” a voice called. “You got your ears on?”
“Speak to me, Shiny Hiney.”
“Dolittle called in ’bout ten minutes ago. Damn near blowed my doors off with that jacked-up radio of his. He’s settin’ on ready.”
“Good. I seen the Christmas tree. He’s runnin’ ahead of me.”
“What’s he talking about?” Barry asked.
“Me,” Slim said with a grin. “He’s talkin’ about all my runnin’ lights. You got some friends down here, Barry.”
A Kenworth roared past Slim’s Peterbilt. The driver grinned hugely, lifted a thumb in a gesture of “everything’s all right,” then picked up a shotgun from the seat beside him, holding it up so Slim and Barry could see.
“Well, I’ll just be goddamned!” Slim said. “That’s ol’ Horsefly. Horsefly and Dolittle and Shiny Hiney and Montana’s all good friends of Panty Snatcher. He musta called them.”
A feeling of warmth that Barry had not experienced since his A-Team days in Asia washed over him. But he had to say, “Slim, do they know what they might be heading into?”
“Yeah, they know,” Slim said, his voice soft, just audible over the roar of the engine and wind. “In the short time you’ve been back behind a wheel, Barry, you’ve made some good friends on the road.”
“Crazy bastards,” Barry said, speaking around the growing lump in his throat. “They could get killed!”
“They know it.” Slim picked up his mike. “This is Christmas Tree. You boys copy?”
They did.
“You got Dolittle up east?”
“Ten-four.”
“Warn him to stay clear of the pickup point. Stay east of it until he gets the word to come on in.”
“Four on that, Christmas Tree. You still got that booster on your squawk box?”
“Ten-four,” Slim radioed.
“We’ll lay back eight or ten miles east and west of the pickup point. Holler when you want us to come in.”
“Ten-four.”
The air went silent.
“Those are good ol’ boys,” Slim said. “All combat vets from Korea. And they ain’t got nothin’ to lose, Barry. The bank is fixin’ to take their rigs.”
“They can lose their lives, Slim.”
“Barry, they’re about to lose their livelihood. Those ol’ boys been truckers all their adult life. They don’t know nothin’ else. They’re all around fifty years old. Man reaches fifty, it’s kinda hard to find a job, of any kind. Truckers have their pride.”
“Well, Slim, there is one company who’ll hire them.”
“Oh, yeah? What company is that?”
“Mine.”
Slim’s smile was sad. “You’re forgetting something, Barry. Even if you get out of this alive, you’re gonna be a wanted man. You’re gonna have more warrants out on you than Jesse James.”
The idea that had been forming in Barry’s head began firming up. “Rivers Trucking will continue to function, Slim.”
Slim glanced at him. “What in hell are you smiling about, Barry? You smilin’ like a big tiger.”
“That may be a very apt description, Slim. Much more than you know.”
25
They had stopped at a cafe in Marathon where Slim had refilled thermos bottles with coffee and picked up a sackful of sandwiches. They pulled into the roadside park about thirty minutes later. They waited.
“Jesus!” Slim said. “What time is it?”
“Above five minutes later than the last time you asked,” Barry told him. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Coming up to midnight. The witching time of night.”
“The what kind of night?”
“Shakespeare, Slim. ‘’Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.’”
“No shit!” Slim said. “All the same to you, I’ll stick with Waylon. I had enough of Mr. S
hakespeare in high school.”
“Where was that?”
“Little town in Illinois. I left there when I was—”
The CB, set on 39, clicked twice.
Slim keyed his mike three times in response.
“Everything look good?” came the question out of the night air.
“Everything’s fine,” Slim spoke into his mike. “What’s your ten-twenty?”
“About thirty miles out. Get ready.”
“We’ll be set.”
Barry slipped out of the bunk and picked up his Uzi, belting ammo pouches around his waist. “I’ll be around, Slim. Watch your ass.”
Slim nodded and changed the CB channel to 19. He picked up his mike. “Thirty minutes to the DZ,” he said.
“Green light on,” came the response.
Barry said, “You an ex-jumper, Slim?”
“Eighty-Second Airborne. Korea. Montana was in the 101st. Shiny Hiney and Horsefly was Marine Raiders. Dolittle was UDT. We’ll stand with you, Barry. Now get gone.”
Barry climbed down into the inky darkness of midnight. Slim’s voice stopped him just as he was closing the door.
“Barry? Thanks for givin’ me a chance to redeem myself.”
“Kissy, kissy!” Barry whispered.
“Asshole!” Slim laughed.
Barry lay beneath one of the tables in the roadside park. His heartbeat had picked up slightly, but his palms were dry as they gripped the Uzi. He had left his shotgun in the tractor with Slim. Barry forced all thoughts of Kate out of his head and concentrated on the upcoming unknown. He had no way of knowing how many men they might be facing. He and Slim knew only that a load of human beings were to be off-loaded for a run up to the Colorado experiment station.
And that atrocity must not be allowed to happen.
Barry waited.
Paul Rivers lay beside his wife in Baton Rouge. She was deep in sleep. He had not been able to keep his eyes closed. At first, when Jack approached him with his scheme, he had felt … well, gritty about it. He hadn’t felt any emotion about his father being beaten by those … whoever it was Jack had hired to beat the old man.
A good thrashing was one thing—murder was quite another. Then he’d learned that his father had thrown in with that filth Fabrello. Bulgari was nothing more than educated slime. Paul was glad the mobster was dead.
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