“Wait for Tim. We can pin them down here until he gets us some cops.”
On the highway, the big van slowed to a stop. Shayne blinked his flashlight twice, shielding the beam. A figure appeared, as though in response to the signal.
“It’s not Tim,” Frieda said.
Shayne looked around quickly. Whoever Frieda had seen had dropped out of sight.
Here was a new factor, and until Shayne could see how it fitted in, they would have to watch the action without taking part. They moved back from the truck. He heard a stealthy, animal-like movement behind him, and a figure passed within a few feet. It was the youth who had thrown the bomb. Now he was bare from the waist up-stick-figure arms, shoulder blades that stuck out like cleavers. There were two sides here, and both sides must believe Larry Canada was a prisoner in the trailer. Beyond that, Shayne had to wait and see.
The fire had almost been brought under control when the bare-chested youth climbed onto the wagon and took a shot in the stomach, dislodging the hose as he fell. A moment later the trailer was blazing again. The tire exploded, blowing out several of the riveted panels. The entire interior was now one mass of flame.
Shayne heard a stifled exclamation from Frieda. The van on the highway was beginning to move.
“Somebody’s driving off with our fat man,” she said.
“Let’s go get them.”
They returned to the truck. He let out the clutch the instant the motor took hold, and they shot forward. He felt a wash of heat as they passed the fire. Somebody jumped aside. He had a gun in his hand, and so did Frieda. Neither one fired.
Downey, his hand raised against the heat, backed away. He saw the pickup start for the gap in the fence and yelled to Pam, “Werner-the son of a bitch is taking off. We should have got rid of that bastard when we had the chance.”
Then Werner himself came running past. He gave Downey a look with murder in it and disappeared in the darkness. That might be a good example for everybody to follow. The fire trucks would be showing up any minute now.
Pam was still on her knees, looking pale and sick. To bring her out of it, Downey flicked the side of her face with his fingers as he went past. “Let’s go, let’s go-”
The damn place was as bright as day. He had counted two people. Two vehicles had driven off. But suddenly he was convinced that there was someone he hadn’t counted, a marksman, who even now was aiming a high-velocity rifle at his spinal column. He felt conspicuous and fragile. He broke stride and dodged about in the beans like a running back.
Then he was in the shadow cast by the water wagon. He ran along that. He was out of condition for this, and after a time he had to drop to the ground to wait for his breath to come back.
The highway was empty now, but that couldn’t continue long. The van and the pickup had passed out of sight. Who the hell were those guys? He would have said Benjamin and Vaughan, but that pair was locked away for the night. He just didn’t know anymore. He got a certain arrangement in the kaleidoscope, and then somebody bumped his elbow and everything came out different.
The trailer was burning like a beacon, with the flames standing straight up. Pam and Werner were nowhere. Downey was alone in the vast field-no friends, no transportation. He had only a vague idea of the geography around here. When he went anywhere, he went on paved roads. He decided to return to the county road that passed under the Interstate, and follow that to see where it led. He trudged off, beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to try and live on the pension.
He heard Pam and Werner snapping at each other ahead and ran to catch up, glad to know he wouldn’t be alone on the walk. He neglected to call out who he was, and they went headlong.
“It’s Jack!” he announced.
He heard the click of a hammer coming back, a scary sound anywhere, and he did another complicated dive and roll. He drew his own gun.
“Hey, let’s not split up. We can still pull this off. Maybe not the full million, but hell, let’s get our expenses out, anyway.”
He went on talking as he crawled. He had really given up back there when he realized that Canada was being fried in his own deep fat. He was only talking to ground some of the electricity in the air. But he began to see possibilities, and by the time he reached them, he had nearly convinced himself.
“You’re still thinking about money?” Pam said with scorn. “Jack, you’re insane.”
“A better word would be stubborn,” Downey said. “Everybody knows that about me. Once I take hold of a thing, I never let go.”
“We’re all still alive. That’s more than can be said for some people. Let’s go our separate ways.”
“Can’t do that yet,” Downey said plausibly. “We’re going to be traveling in the same car. Werner, how’s the arm?”
“I’m O.K.”
“I thought I’d suggest, as soon as we hit a road, why don’t we find you a place to sit down, and we’ll go get the car and come back for you? No sense in us all walking.”
“I don’t want to feel left out.”
“Suit yourself.”
Werner had pocketed his gun, but he kept his hand in that pocket. Downey did the same, until he persuaded himself that everything was cool. Reaching the road, they turned east. Sooner or later they would be bound to see signs.
“Now why should anybody want to set that trailer on fire?” he said. “Because they knew Canada was in it! Are you following me this far? He’s stepped on so many faces, the town’s full of people who’d like to see him burn.”
They were listening, at least. If he was this tired at the start, how would he feel at the finish? They could droop along and admit that their feet hurt. But he was the noncom, he had to pretend.
“We could go home and get some sleep,” he said, “and by the time we woke up, everything would be buttoned up tight. Damn it, this was a great idea of yours, Werner. I for one don’t want to give up just because we had a little setback here.”
“A little setback,” Werner repeated in an amazed voice.
“Not so little, I guess. Here’s what I was thinking. We’ve got the letter ready. Let’s go ahead and send the fucking thing. When the wife gets it, she’ll call a committee meeting. One man on that committee is going to know there’s no point, because Canada is out on the Interstate in a burnt-out trailer. But he can’t say so without giving it away. They’ll go ahead and collect the money-”
“First making sure he’s alive,” Pam said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. With a number that big, they won’t deliver the money until they’re sure he’s alive, but they’ll collect it. They’ll have it on hand. One million cash. Now they’re disorganized. Their security won’t be of the best. Do you see what I’m driving at? It’s a police matter. I’ll be in on it. I’ll see how they act, and I’ll keep in touch with you guys so you can move on a minute’s notice. Who the hell knows? Maybe I’ll give you a call and tell you to put on the masks. We won’t go for the guy this time, go for the money.”
He was forcing it. He didn’t believe himself it would happen. Enough was enough.
He had guessed about ten miles. It was more like fifteen. Dawn was about due by the time they sighted the car. Several times, approaching headlights had made them dive for the side of the road. Toward the end, they were hopelessly lost. He couldn’t keep talking the whole time, but he thought he finally convinced Pam. Werner, probably not. He had to keep an eye on that boy.
“Nick, Nick.” Greco pulled him out from under the water wagon and came down beside him. “You’re a mess, you know that?”
Greco had to feel an effect from the way Nick was looking at him. It was touching. Nick had gathered some bean plants and was pressing them to the wound. It was no substitute for regular bandages. If Greco attempted to carry him, he was going to get blood and slime all over his clothes. Nick’s acne stood out as though it had been stippled on. The medal on his chest winked in the firelight.