I looked at the pebbly ground. All of the pain and misery happening out here caused my heart to ache, but soon it’d be over and the kids would be free.
And for me, I was beginning to see a way out of the horrible mess, and it felt good. I got to my feet and for the first time in days I was able to stand in the sun and breathe the air and feel alive again. It felt as if fate had finally turned my way.
But five seconds later, I saw how absolutely wrong I was.
Edging out from behind the scrub, I turned back toward the road just as cloud of dust appeared. Rita’s Datsun came out of nowhere, went zooming by, and headed straight for the borax works.
CHAPTER 39
I froze, an immovable object, a ton of lead. This can’t be happening. But it was. Rita’s Datsun zoomed right by me, heading right for the facility. I raced to the center of the road and hurried after her, eating the dust of her receding car, waving my arms wildly, and shouting.
The dust cleared a bit, and in the distance, down at the bottom of the sloping road, I saw the yellow Datsun pull up to the clapboard office. Rita parked and went into the building. Damn!
I stopped a hundred yards short of the borax works when a couple of guards, weapons slung from their shoulders, came out of the mess hall and milled around.
Standing on the high ground, gazing at the complex, I wondered how I’d get her out of there without both of us getting shot. Moran had already issued my death sentence, and his number one honcho, Buddy, was only too happy to carry it out.
I heard a noise. A car. I spun around. It skidded to a stop.
Two men jumped out.
Oh, God!
I stared at the gun pointed at my face, the gun held by Sergeant Joe Hammer.
“Move and you’re dead,” the cop said.
“What the hell-”
“We tailed her, figured she’d lead us to you. She did.” Hammer nodded to the other cop. “Hook him up, Butch.” Then to me: “Don’t even think about it.”
“Hammer, you’ve got to help! Rita’s in danger!” I pointed toward the works. “She’s at the borax plant down the road!”
Butch grabbed my arms and snapped the cuffs on.
“Hammer, you gotta listen to me! They’ll see us-”
“You’re under arrest. Put him in the unit, Butch.”
The cop shoved me toward the detectives’ unmarked vehicle. “Goddamn, Hammer, they’ve got guns, assault weapons.”
The plant’s whistle let out a long blast.
Hammer peered at the complex as teens filed out of the mess hall, nudged along by guards jabbing them with automatic rifles. The kids paraded back toward the main building.
“Hammer, you gotta believe me!”
Butch pushed my head down, trying to get me in the back seat. I banged him with my shoulder. He cocked a fist.
“Hold it a second,” Hammer holstered his gun and, without taking his eyes off the borax works, gestured for Butch to cool it.
One of the guards looked up. He saw us standing out here on the road. Nudging the man next to him, he pointed at us and shouted. “Hey! Who are you guys?”
“Police, official business,” Hammer shouted back.
The second guy started to raise his assault rifle.
“Good Christ,” Hammer said. “What are they doing?”
“Move! They are going to kill us.”
Butch shoved me aside, jumped in the cop car and grabbed the radio mike. Then he dropped it. “Goddamn radio, too far out, can’t raise anyone…”
A rifle shot banged in my ear. Butch’s head exploded.
“They’re firing!” Hammer exclaimed. We jumped behind an outgrowth of rocks at the edge of the road. Three more rapid gunshots; the bullets buzzed over our heads.
“We got to get out of here,” Hammer said as he peered over the rocks. “We’re outnumbered-” Then he saw Butch’s body lying in the dirt. “Oh, Jesus! Jesus Mary Joseph, oh God-Goddammit!” Sliding down below the rock’s edge, he fell silent. He bowed his head and his body deflated slowly, like his soul was leaking out. Maybe it was.
I raised my head until I could barely see over the top of the rocks. Buddy barged out of the office.
The guards huddled up with him, pointing furiously in our direction.
“Go get ’em. Shoot the bastards,” Buddy roared. His voice carried across the valley.
I ducked down.
“Let’s go, O’Brien, move it!” Hammer grabbed my arm.
“Hammer, listen to me! We can’t leave. We’ve got to save Rita.”
He gave me a blank look. “What?”
“Rita’s down there. She’s in the office. They’ll kill her!”
“There’s nothing we can do. We got to get to the car.” He started to crawl away. A bullet almost took off his head. He jerked back. “Must be eight or nine of them. They’re moving out. Shit, man, let’s go. They’re coming after us!”
I thrust my bound wrists at him. “Here, for chrissakes, unhook me. I didn’t kill Robbie, they did.”
He grabbed a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. Then he snatched a gun from his ankle holster. “I don’t know if you murdered anybody or not, but you used to be a cop. Here, use this. We’ll lay down some fire, and then make a dash for the car.” He handed me a small automatic, a Beretta, not exactly police issue, and not much of a weapon.
He pulled another gun, a big revolver, from his shoulder holster, checked the cylinder, and snapped it closed. With a determined look on his face, he said, “I’ll go first. You follow. Barstow’s down the road and-”
I shook my head. “Forget Barstow, the chief’s one of them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead sure.”
“Aw shit. Maybe I can flag a Chippie on Highway 58. We’ll take the cutoff road. Don’t worry. We’ll come back for your secretary. Now, let’s go!”
No, I was staying. I held the small pistol and thought, how am I going to hold off nine guys firing AK-47s with this peashooter until he returns with the 7th Cavalry?
I took a deep breath and let the air escape from my lungs. I figured I might not make it, but I couldn’t leave without Rita.
Raising my head, I peered over the edge. Hammer was right. The men were coming, crouching military style, creeping forward cautiously. They couldn’t know how many of us were out here. Maybe I could spook them.
I got off three quick rounds. The guards scrambled for cover.
Buddy stood defiantly in the middle of the gravel road and shouted, “Hey, we just want to talk. No sense in gunplay. Come on out with your hands in the air. I’ll hold my men back ’til I count to three. If you don’t come out, then we’ll be a-comin’ for ya. And I’m afraid we’ll have to kill you.”
I took a shot at him, missed by a mile. He dropped to the ground and looked around. When he saw one of his men, he raised his hand and tossed out a signal, his finger stopping when it was pointed right at me. The guard swung the weapon around.
Adrenalin coursing, I dove down next to Hammer. A heavy barrage of gunfire ensued. The rapid fire rattled my teeth. Slugs bounced off the granite in front of us, rock shards flying.
I tried to burrow deeper into the dirt.
An eerie stillness suddenly filled the air. I glanced at the red ants crawling up my arms, gnawing my flesh, and waited for the bullets to start flying again. I could hear my heart banging against my ribs.
Hammer said, “There’s a riot gun in the unit. You’ll ride shotgun…” He paused, seemingly appraising me. “You ready, O’Brien?”
“Not going.”
“You crazy bastard…” He started to say something else, but didn’t. “It’s your funeral.”
Buddy’s voice rang out: “Okay, I’m countin’.” He paused for a second. “One…”
Hammer’s eyes locked on mine. “Cover me.”
“Two…”
Rita’s image flashed in my mind. Hammer had to get help. I rolled sideways, out from behind the rocks, sprang to my feet. “Three! You son-of-a-bitch,” I shouted. Then I fired.