Ducking down, I crossed under the window and put my hand on the rusty knob. I twisted it, and the door opened a crack. With every instinct in my body telling me to retreat, I ventured into the building. I stood in a dim utility room where I saw a door cut into the opposite wall. It was slightly ajar; a sliver of light spilled through and fanned out as it fell across the floor.
I tiptoed to the door and peered through the opening. My knees buckled. Rita sat there, tied to a chair at the far end of the vintage office. A strip of duct tape covered her mouth. It took all my willpower to stop from barging in and shooting Moran where he stood, but I only had one bullet and Krause wore two big revolvers on his hip. He’d shoot us both if I tried anything.
Krause and Buddy were talking at once. Moran, holding a large shoulder pouch, stood ramrod straight next to an old cabinet safe.
“Shut up, goddammit,” he bellowed. “It’s all over. O’Brien’s pal, that P.I. bastard Silverman, talked to Bickerton. Must’ve scared him good. The snake oil preacher told him everything.”
I froze at the mention of Sol’s name. What did he have to do with this?
“What could Bickerton tell him?” Buddy asked. “He don’t know shit about what we do out here.”
Krause jumped in. “That tax-exempt asshole told Silverman that Ben here gives him kickbacks to send his recruits, the druggies, to the rehab center at Rattlesnake Lake.”
“So what?” Buddy said. “Everybody gives kickbacks, even the legit drug centers.”
“Go ahead, might as well tell him the rest, Burt,” Moran said.
“That Jew bastard figured out Moran doesn’t have a state license to operate a rehabilitation center. Rattlesnake Lake’s cover has always been that it’s a gun club, right?”
Sol had told me he was working on something. But why was he worried about Moran’s damn licenses? God Almighty, they’re turning kids into slaves!
“That goddamned Silverman,” Moran said, “had his buddies, brass from the San Berdoo County Sheriff’s Department, raid the base. That son-of-a-bitch used that license bullshit as an excuse. He’s there now with the cops. They’re talking to the kids, for chrissakes. I was in the cafe when Burt got the call. He came in and got me and we rushed out here.”
“The FBI will be out there soon,” Krause added.
Oh, Sol! You lunatic. You wonderful crazy human being. Who’d think of taking down a group of hardened mad-dog killers with a simple license code violation? If you were here, I think I’d kiss you. I winced. Well, I’d say something nice.
“What about O’Brien?” Buddy asked. “He’s out there in the bushes.”
“Forget O’Brien. You idiot, it’s over. As soon as that damn plane gets here, I’m gone.”
“Wait a minute. You’re just gonna leave?” Buddy said.
“I knew it’d come to this one day. I’ve got my goods and I’m gonna haul ass. The plane will be here any minute.”
My mind swirled. Sol knew I was heading for the borax works; Joyce must have told him. He’d bring the cops here for sure. I just had to wait it out. Hang on without getting caught until they arrived. It wasn’t my job to capture Moran, so why take any risks now? I’d just have to play it cool. Moran would get away, but so what? Rita would be safe. And that’s what mattered. I shook my hands at my sides and did a couple of neck rolls, trying to loosen up.
I heard the drone of a small plane. It would touch down on the little runway at any moment. Then Moran would take off. Buddy and Krause would leave as well. They’d have to if they wanted to save their necks. I waited and listened.
“You’ve got what, ten, twelve million in uncut diamonds stashed in that pouch, Moran?” Buddy asked.
“Suppose you tell me what’s on your mind,” Moran said.
“Suppose I tell you I want my share!”
“Take it easy, Buddy,” Burt Krause said. “Ben’s taken good care of us-”
A gunshot exploded. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I spun around and peered in. My eyes swept the room. Rita, wide-eyed, squirmed in her chair, scared out of her wits but okay. Buddy was sprawled on the floor, blood oozing from a third eye in the center of his forehead. Moran stood in front of the open safe still holding the black pouch in one hand; in the other he held a smoking gun.
“Christ, Ben! I could’ve talked him out of it!” Krause exclaimed.
“He had it coming. You got a problem, too?”
“Hell no! You did fine by me. I’ve got plenty stashed. You’re right, he had it coming. But hey, I gotta get outta here too before the authorities show up.”
I ducked back and crossed the room. Glancing out, I saw the plane sitting on the runway. Damn, the pilot was headed this way, coming to get Moran. He’d walk in the door and spot me. I darted back, desperately looking for a place to hide. Nope, nowhere.
Moran’s voice came from the other room: “The plane should be here by now. So long, Burt.”
Any second Moran would come through the office door and the pilot would walk in through the back door. I’d be caught in the middle.
But wait, the pilot was farther away, and Moran was just on the other side of the door. He’d get here first, before the pilot could warn him, then I’d have the drop on him. I held my breath and drew my gun. I’d jam it in his face and force him to release Rita. I stood at the edge of the doorway. My heart did a rumba in my chest as I waited. But Moran didn’t appear. He was still talking in the other room.
“Hold it a minute,” Krause said.
“What, goddammit?”
Too long. The pilot would be here any second. He could be armed. I’d be in the middle of them. They’d all draw their guns and it’d be over.
Hurry up, Moran. Goddammit! Get in here.
“O’Brien’s still out there,” Krause said. “Could be hiding on the other side of that wall, for all we know.”
“Yeah, you could be right.”
Oh, Mother of God! They figured I might be here. My pulse raced. My plan was going down in flames. I’d be nailed after all.
“Get the guards,” Moran said. “I’ll need an escort. I’ll take the girl too. She’ll make a good hostage. I’ll eliminate her in Mexico.”
Christ! If he came through the door with a gun on Rita, we’d never make it. Think, Jimmy, goddammit. Think!
All of a sudden, rapid gunfire from outside shook the room. An instant later the pilot staggered in, blood pouring from his chest. The guards had shot him. Must have thought the guy was me. In the dim light, our eyes locked. He fell on his face at my feet. I recoiled and flattened myself against the wall.
“What the hell?” Moran appeared in the doorway, holding Rita in front of him, twisting her arm behind her back. A cocked gun was in his other hand, pressed against her ribcage. One twitch of his finger, and she’d be dead. The black pouch hung on his shoulder. Moran didn’t see me standing in the shadows.
“Aw shit!” he shouted. “Someone shot the goddamn pilot. Stupid fucking guards! How in the hell am I gonna to get outta here now?”
He shoved Rita farther into the dim room. She struggled, kicking and thrashing, her cries muffled by the tape across her mouth. He stared down at the dead pilot.
Krause shouted from the office, “I think the cops are here! All the guards took off, shooting it out with the cops. I hear gunshots coming from the road. I gotta move!”
Sol’s troops were coming. They’d be here any minute, firing their weapons. Moran would use Rita’s body as a shield. She’d be killed for sure.
I tucked the Beretta in my belt under my jacket and stepped out of the shadows.
“I’ll fly you out,” I said. “Just let her go.”