Kerney knelt down and looked. It was too dark to see the extent of the damage. Kerney grabbed Eddie under the arms, lifted him to his feet, and propped him against the propane tank.
"I think I'm going to faint," Eddie said.
"Hold on." Kerney took out a handkerchief, pushed the flap of loose skin back into place against Eddie's forehead, and dabbed the blood from his eye.
"Thanks," Eddie said weakly. Kerney kept his hand on Eddie's chest to hold him upright. He could feel Eddie's rapid heartbeat.
"How's your head?"
"Spinning."
"Can you stand without falling?" Eddie, eyes closed, waited for the sensation to subside before he answered.
"Of course I can."
"Are you sure?" Eddie opened his eyes and made a face. His teeth hurt.
"Just don't ask me to walk yet." Kerney let go, retrieved Eddie's wallet and badge case from the asphalt, and searched Carlos. He found a key, a card, and some money in a coat pocket. He used Carlos's cigarette lighter to inspect the stuff.
"What have you got?" Eddie asked.
"A way into the storage compound." He held up the folded bills.
"Your money?"
"Army funds," Eddie said. "Keep it for me." Kerney nodded, used his belt to tie Carlos's hands behind his back, flipped him over, and positioned him within kicking distance of Eddie's foot.
"I'll be back in a minute. If Carlos wakes up while I'm gone, kick him in the nuts."
"Gladly," Eddie replied. It took only a few minutes for Kerney to return, cuff Carlos, and dump him in the bed of the truck. Under the glare of the headlights he sat Eddie down and inspected his hands. The knuckles were fractured. He bandaged them with tape from his first-aid kit while Eddie winced and refused to look.
"How are they?" he asked when Kerney finished.
"Broken," Kerney answered, cleaning Eddie's head wound and covering it with a Band-Aid.
"I know that. How bad?" Eddie demanded. Kerney considered what to say as he pulled Eddie to his feet.
"You'll be fine after the doctors work on you," he promised. "I've seen a lot worse."
"You're not lying to me?"
"No, I'm not. Let's get you to a hospital."
"No way," Eddie said gamely.
"First I want to see what's in that storage unit."
"You need a doctor."
"So do you, for chrissake," Eddie retorted.
"Are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah. Let's go look. I want to see if all the shit you told me is real."
"So do I," Kerney agreed. He left Eddie alone in the glare of the headlights, got behind the wheel of the truck, and opened the passenger door. If Eddie couldn't walk under his own steam, he would take him directly to the hospital. Eddie stood with a disgusted look on his face, his bandaged hands cradled at his chest. He wobbled to the truck and climbed in. Kerney reached over and closed the door. Kerney opened the overhead garage door to the storage unit, turned on the lights, and drove his truck inside. Scattered around the room were sealed crates, packing boxes, and wardrobe trunks. He got a tire iron from the truck, walked to a large wooden crate, and pried it open while Eddie stood next to him.
"Madre de Dios," Eddie said. The crate was filled with dozens of antique Army rifles, all in mint condition.
"Isn't that something?" Kerney asked with amazement. They moved on and found military uniforms by the dozen, boxes filled with spurs, saddle blankets, and headgear, and crates brimming with sabers, pistols, and scabbards. One large box held cavalry saddles by the score. Reading Gutierrez's list was one thing, but actually seeing the cache was mind boggling The urge to open everything was almost irresistible. Kerney forced himself to stop, checked on Carlos, who hadn't stirred, and dragged him out of the bed of the truck.
"Have you seen enough?" he asked Eddie as he propped Carlos against a packing crate.
"Amazing," Eddie replied.
"It's like something from a movie." Carlos started to come around. He groaned and looked at Kerney with hate-filled eyes.
"You hit me pretty hard, gringo," he said.
"You'll live," Kerney said.
"You won't," Carlos replied, glancing at Eddie. Kerney lifted Carlos's chin with the point of the tire iron.
"Pay attention to me, Carlos. No threats. Cooperate and I won't fuck you up. Give me the names of Benton's partners."
"Eat shit," he answered. Kerney poked the tire iron into Carlos's Adam's apple, cutting the skin. Blood trickled from the wound.
"I'll make a deal with you, Carlos. Talk and I won't rip out your larynx." He dug the tip in farther, and Carlos started choking. Unable to speak, Carlos nodded his head.
"Who were Benton's partners?"
"I know only one other," Carlos answered. "A gringo, like you."
"His name?" Kerney increased the pressure slightly.
"I don't know. Senor De Leon did business with him privately."
"What kind of business?" Kerney demanded, pressing a bit harder at Carlos's Adam's apple.
"I don't know," Carlos gurgled.
A voice behind Kerney spoke.
"He's telling you the truth, Lieutenant."
Kerney pivoted to find James Meehan looking at him over the barrel of a pistol. For some reason, Kerney wasn't surprised. "Captain Meehan."
"Drop the tire iron," Meehan ordered. Kerney did as he was told.
Meehan's eyes found Eddie; another unexpected factor in the equation. He glanced at the bandages on Tapia's hands.
"It seems you've hurt yourself, Corporal."
"I'm just fine. Captain," Eddie replied, trying not to look stunned.
Meehan scanned the room for any more surprises. "Where's Benton?" he demanded. Eddie and Kerney said nothing.
"Dead," Carlos finally replied. The information stung Meehan. The complications never seemed to end. He'd have to adjust again, but he could do it. "Who killed him?" he asked.
"I did," Kerney answered, before Eddie could reply.
"I'm impressed. Benton was very proficient."
"Where is Sara?" Kerney demanded, changing the subject.
"Safely tucked away," Meehan answered. "You have something of mine."
"I can't help you."
Meehan cocked his weapon. "Don't tempt me. You've caused me enough problems. The coins and letters. Where are they?"
"I'll trade for them."
"Is Sara worth that much to you?"
"Whatever it takes."
"It's possible," Meehan allowed.
"Let me think about it. Stand up, Carlos." He watched him struggle to his feet.
"Why are you here?"
"Senor De Leon sent me," Carlos replied, trying to buy time and think things through. The patron would not want him to say too much.
"Meaning?" Carlos hesitated.
"We found a key on Benton's body. I came to take a look." Meehan chuckled.
"Such a den of thieves." Sara's creative ploy had almost worked. One more score to settle with the bitch. "I'll sort that out with Enrique later. Remove his handcuffs," he told Kerney. Hands free, Carlos rubbed his wrists.
"Walk to me," Meehan ordered. Carlos approached.
"I need your help."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to keep Kerney company." Carlos nodded. "Good," Meehan said.
"You've got your deal, Kerney. I'll exchange Sara for the coins and letters. Carlos will go with you."
"Agreed," Kerney replied.
"What about Eddie?" Carlos asked.
"He stays here."
He Leon wants him," Carlos said. "Alive."
"That can be arranged."
"Where do I meet you?" Carlos asked. De Leon hacienda. Be there in three hours," Meehan ordered. It would give him time to dispose of Sara. Then he would kill Kerney, if Carlos was too stupid not to do it himself, and turn Eddie over to De Leon. Everything would be tidied up and there would be nothing left to investigate.
"I'll be there," Carlos said. *** "You can't drive worth a shit," Carlos said. He sat next to Kerney, a handgun stuck in the gringo's rib cage, watching him trying to work the brake pedal with his right foot. The truck lurched to a stop at a red light.