CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The front door swung open. A woman stepped out with a revolver. She was slim, no older than twenty, with black hair cropped short. Though she must have had plenty of time to dress, she wore only a short pink nightgown. Apparently, thought Lacey, she’d been determined to keep them out.“Put down your guns,” she said.Dukane nodded to Scott. They set a total of four pistols on the ground: two of their own, plus the two they’d taken from Trankus and his partner.“They were planning to make off with the truck,” said the other woman, climbing down. “Otherwise, I would’ve let them go.” She was larger than the one in the doorway, with broad hips, and breasts that swung loosely inside her T-shirt.“What’ll we do?” asked the smaller one.“Let’s get them inside and call the police.”“You do have a phone,” Dukane said.“Of course.”“Okay, inside.”The small one backed into the house, waving her revolver. The one with the shotgun took up the rear. When they were all inside, she shut the door.“Okay, Nancy, call the cops.”“Don’t do that,” Dukane said. “Here, look at my credentials.” He handed his wallet to the girl with the pistol.She slipped it open and stared. “Says he’s FBI, Jan.”“Anybody can get a fake ID.”“We were escorting our prisoner to Tucson when our car broke down.”“What’s he doing with a shirt on his head?” Jan asked.“He’s deformed,” Dukane explained. “We put the shirt over him to spare you the sight.”“Bullshit,” Jan said.“It’s true,” Lacey told her.“They covered my head’cause they kidnapped me and don’t want you seeing who they’ve got. They snatched me this morning. I’m Watson Jones, vice president for Wells Fargo…”“Can it, Hoffman.”“Let him talk,” said Jan.“They’re holding me for two million bucks. The three of’em, they’re in it together. Look, get these cuffs off me, huh? Dukane, he’s got a key.”“Heard about a kidnapping?” Jan asked Nancy.“No.”“They ain’t released it to the news.”With relief, Lacey saw a wry smile on Jan’s face.“For the vice president of a bank, buster, you ain’t got such good grammar.”“He’s a rapist and murderer,” Dukane said.“That’s a con! Get his fuckin’ key before he grabs your guns.”“Nobody’s going to grab your guns,” Dukane said. “This is your house. Fine with us if you want to hold the artillery. As I said before, we just want the use of your telephone. I need to call headquarters so they can pick us up.”“We’d better call the cops. Nancy?”“You don’t want to do that,” Dukane said.“Yes, I think we do.”Nancy walked backward across the red ceramic tile of the living room, and lowered herself onto a couch. She reached out for a telephone on the lamp table.“Where’d she go?” Hoffman blurted. “What’s she doing? Don’t let her call!”“If you make that call,” Dukane said, “it’s quite possible we’ll all be dead by morning.”Nancy looked at Jan.“Explain yourself,” Jan said.“Our friend here belongs to a certain organization—a cult that wants him back. They have connections inside the Tucson police.”“Suppose we call the Highway Patrol?”“They may or may not be infiltrated. I don’t know about that. But I do know this: if you phone in, they’ll dispatch a car to this location by radio. Any joker with a Bearcat scanner will know right where to find us.”“We’ll be dead meat,” Hoffman said.“What do you think?” Jan asked her friend.Nancy shook her head, looking confused.“It’s all too damned fishy for me. Go ahead and call the Highway Patrol.”“Don’t,” Dukane warned.Nancy lifted the receiver and dialed for the operator. “Hello? I’d like the number…”“Please,” Lacey said, starting forward. “Put it down.”Jan swung the shotgun toward her. At that instant, Dukane leapt. He caught Jan around the hips, throwing her backward. The shotgun fired.As its roar stunned Lacey’s ears, she saw the base of the phone jump from the table, exploding, crashing into the lamp behind it. Phone and lamp flew against the blasted wall. Dukane and Jan hit the floor.Scott rushed Nancy. The girl, frozen by the blast that barely missed her, offered no resistance. She sat on the couch, phone receiver still in her right hand, gazing at the splintered table surface as Scott freed the revolver from her left hand.“What happened?” Hoffman yelled. “Somebody take this fuckin’ shirt off my head! Who got shot?”Dukane, on top of Jan, shoved the shotgun across the floor. She stopped struggling. As he pinned her arms, they both gazed toward Nancy.“She’s okay,” Dukane said.“Get off me,” Jan muttered.He climbed off, and went for the shotgun. Jan hurried to the couch. She sat down and put an arm around the girl. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I almost…” She began to cry. The daze left Nancy’s face. Her chin trembled, and she lay her head against Jan’s breast.“Why don’t you all just get out of here,” Jan blurted. “Get the hell out. Take the pickup. Just get out of here.”“Where are the keys?” Dukane asked, his voice gentle.“My purse. In the kitchen.”He went for them, and returned a moment later. “I’ll see that the truck’s returned to you,” he said.“Just get out.”“Come on,” he said.They went outside, leaving the two women on the couch. Dukane lowered the tailgate. He and Scott lifted Hoffman onto the truck bed. “I’ll ride in the back with him,” he said, climbing aboard with the shotgun.They closed the tailgate. Scott lifted the two attaché cases over the side panel. He took the pistols off the ground, and gave two of them to Dukane.“You take this,” he said, handing Nancy’s revolver to Lacey.They climbed into the cab.As Scott started the truck, Lacey saw Jan gazing out one of the front windows of the house.“They’ll be all right,” Scott said.“Now that we’re gone.”“Yeah.” He pulled the truck away from the house, with the headlights off, and sped up the long, narrow road. The deep blue of the sky was lighter in the east. Lacey wondered at it, for a moment, then realized the night was nearly over.She leaned back and shut her eyes. She felt weary and sick, but not sleepy. Taking a deep breath, she was nearly overcome by nausea. Her mind whirled with images of Nancy’s shocked face, the face of the man she had shot, the screams as Hoffman chopped through the crowd at the elevators, little Hamlin Alexander leaping into the packed elevator, the knife plunging into Carl’s throat. She snapped open her eyes. “Oh God,” she muttered.“It’ll soon be over.” Scott patted her leg.“All this death…”“I know.”And then she saw a dark car ahead of them on the road, its doors open, men crouched behind the doors with guns.“Down!” Scott yelled, and hit the brakes.