Sweating, while covered with dust and with her hair disheveled, Andrea knew she must look affright. She certainly couldn’t say the same for the men walking toward her. They were rather spiffy looking in their matching safari outfits.
Cord made it back to the motor home and discovered that it was like the inside of an oven with the air-conditioning shut-off. He began using the first-aid kit on his wounded cheek. The slug had slit the skin wide open. For some reason, the slight impact of the shot had also given him a brutal headache.
Rudy was dead, he was sure of it, but he’d have to go back and get his brother’s body. If the law found Rudy, they would come looking for him sooner or later.
Cord cursed Andrea’s soul as he worked on his cheek, but he knew she was a lesser worry than the fact that the assassin hired to kill Smith was roaming about. Everyone was armed except him and it made Cord feel vulnerable.
After downing four pain relief tablets that he knew wouldn’t do shit for the agony in his face, Cord went to work trying to hot-wire the motor home. He had seen cars hot-wired, but he had never done it himself.
Either he got lucky or the skill was an easily acquired one, but Cord made the engine roar to life in less than two minutes. Before driving away, he soaked in the air-conditioning blowing through the vents, then looked over at Rudy’s empty seat.
No tears fell from Cord’s eyes, but a fury burned in his soul. He vowed that someday, somehow, he would kill Andrea. After putting the RV in gear, Cord went off to get his brother’s body.
64
Three Little Words
BAJA CALIFORNIA, MEXICO, JULY 1998
Cody Parker reached the limit of his abilities while he was still nine miles from the finish line. First, he had slowed, despite urging his feet to keep moving. That was followed by a wave of dizziness that caused him to crash atop hot sand and vomit what little was in his stomach.
After laying with one side of his face in the sand, he went to rise and found that he couldn’t. His arms seemed unable to support his weight, while his legs felt lifeless. Cody Parker had given it his all and it wasn’t enough.
“Nooo,” he moaned, but he was finished, and he knew it, all that was left was to accept the truth. He wasn’t man enough to be a Tanner.
Cody’s heat-reddened eyes closed on their own, mercifully blocking the blinding rays of a sun that was broiling the sweltering air around him to 113-degrees. As he lay there in despair, the hot ground seared the skin of his cheek, while soaking up his tears.
“A little rest and I’ll be all right,” Cody mumbled, but behind his closed lids he imagined what awaited him when he finally went limping back like a defeated dog. He’d spent the last eight months training to become a man who could best any number of men thrown against him, and he couldn’t even beat himself.
Cody opened his eyes, struggled into a sitting position, then looked toward where the finish line would be.
Nine miles, it’s only nine more miles.
Checking his watch, Cody saw that there was little more than an hour left. Fear gripped him then. It was an emotion he seldom experienced, but it took hold of his mind and told him he would die if he attempted to rise and finish the race.
Cody laughed, the sound guttural, as it came from a dry throat. Wasn’t he already dead? He wasn’t Cody Parker, no, Cody Parker was buried back in Texas next to his family… the family he’d failed to protect.
Fear fled from his mind to be replaced by shame and regret. He had asked Spenser once if he could have saved his family had he been there that night. Spenser had responded that it might not have been possible to save them given the odds Cody had faced, but Cody never believed that.
He couldn’t believe it, and he wouldn’t give in to the belief that superior odds always won.
Spenser had gone down to Mexico and faced over a dozen men just to get a measure of justice for Cody’s family. He’d risked his own life to do that, then he took Cody in and offered to train him.
And for what? Cody thought. So that I could give up and lie down in the sand just miles from the finish line?
Cody made it to his feet and weaved in place on a pair of unsteady legs.
Tanner! I have to become a Tanner.
He thought of Pablo then, of the Mexican boy who prevented Martello from shooting him to death by attacking the brutal man with nothing but his bare hands. It was Pablo who lay in the grave of Cody Parker. Pablo had fought rather than run, although he could have easily hidden in the fields that night.
Anger coursed through Cody, and it was rage at himself. All his talk about becoming a man who couldn’t be defeated by any odds, and a simple test was about to stop him.
“No!” Cody shouted through gritted teeth. After shedding the near empty backpack and hiding it under brush, he took off running.
Cody Parker was a man possessed by a single vision, by a dream of a future self. That man, that Tanner’s heart would explode in his chest from the effort of winning, rather than to fail by admitting defeat.
Cody’s feet hammered the hot sand as he ran in an all-out effort, while in his mind one word repeated over and over.
Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner! Tanner!
Cody would become a Tanner, or he would die trying.
Not far away, Romeo had also reached his limit. He had given it everything he had and made it to within eight miles of the finish line, but he knew he would never make it there in time. His back was a nest of knotted muscles, while his legs felt boneless and weak.
And without the watch, for all he knew he had already lost. And yet, he didn’t think so, the sun had risen hours ago, but it wasn’t yet high enough to be noon.
Romeo was at the final water stop and savoring the last of the gallon of cool refreshment Spenser had left for him. Thinking of Spenser reminded Romeo of the note Spenser had given him.
He took the folded envelope from his pocket and found that it was wet from his perspiration. After carefully freeing the note inside, he read it.
It didn’t take long to do. There were only three words written on the note. They were in the middle of the page in capital letters.
I KNEW IT.
“What?” Romeo said. “He knew it. Knew what?”
Was Spenser telling me that he knew I would fail? No, he’s not like that… or is he? Romeo thought.
No, Spenser and he were tight, friends, and he loved the guy, but then, why did he write those words?
I KNEW IT.
Romeo thought about the eight miles that separated him from victory, then looked at his wrist, only to curse when he saw the bare flesh where his watch should be.
That damn sinkhole is why I won’t finish. If not for that I would have had enough time and energy to complete the race.
A memory came to Romeo of something Spenser was always saying.
“You can have two things in this world,” Spenser said. “Reasons or results, and reasons don’t count.”
Romeo forced himself to stand while moaning from the pain in his back. The thought of walking a hundred feet seemed a Herculean effort, much less to run eight more miles. And the eight was only a guess; it could just as easily be as much as ten miles.
Is there even enough time left?
I KNEW IT.
I KNEW IT.
I KNEW IT.
I KNEW IT.
Romeo looked down at the note in his hand, then balled it up and threw it away.
“You don’t know me!”
He took off slow, then gained speed, determined not to stop for anything short of death.
65
A Promise Of Violence To Come
DEATH VALLEY, CALIFORNIA, AUGUST 2012
The safari twins were giddy with glee over having captured Andrea, whom they marched along in front of them at gunpoint.
They were taking her back to where they had separated with Phelps, to meet up with him and the jeep.
Andrea slunk along in a defeated posture. She
had been so close to making it out to the road and would have if she hadn’t been trusting. Now, they would hand her over to the man calling himself Smith.
Andrea turned her head and asked the safari twins a question.
“Is my father where you’re taking me?”
“He’s dead,” said the shorter of the two men. Seeing the devastation his words had caused Andrea, he added, “Sorry.”
Andrea stopped walking, then sank to the ground as a flood of tears blurred her vision. Along with the grief came hatred.
“Who killed my father?”
“His name is Phelps. We’re taking you to meet him,” said the taller man. After speaking to Andrea, he pointed ahead where a jeep was coming to a stop several hundred feet away. “Why is Phelps parking out there?”
“He’s a jerk,” said the shorter man. “He wants to make us walk to him.”
“I know how to get under his skin. I’ll ask him about Tanner.”
“Who’s Tanner?” Andrea asked, while wiping at her eyes.
“He was a friend of your father,” the short man said. “Phelps was supposed to kill him too, but Tanner got away from him.”
The tall man took out his radio and keyed it to Phelps’ handset.
“Hey, Phelps. Did you kill Tanner yet?”
The tall man’s answer was delivered courtesy of the slug from a .308 Winchester cartridge. The round entered the tall man’s head at the tip of his nose and sent his brains blowing out the back of his head. The gore covered the face of the shorter man and blinded him. As he was raising his hands to clear his vision, a second round took a chunk out of his left arm.
The short man let out a scream of agony, tripped over his partner’s body, and fell backwards to land on his ass.
Tanner arrived on the scene while driving the jeep and saw that Andrea was running away. He called to her.
“My name is Tanner! I won’t hurt you!”
Andrea stopped running, but she came no closer.
“You’re Tanner? You knew my father?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, but he’s dead.”
Fresh tears sprang from Andrea’s eyes as her father’s death was confirmed. Looking at the rifle Tanner held, she realized he could have killed her easily. She walked back. Seeing the short man whining over his wounded arm enraged her and Andrea kicked him in the face.
“You can’t suffer enough, you piece of shit.”
Tanner had taken a canteen off the belt of the tall man and found it to be half full. After draining it and feeling the water revive him, he scanned his surroundings. As he did so, he spoke to the surviving safari twin, who had a bloody lip to go with the wound in his arm.
“Where can I find Mr. Smith?”
“I don’t know. Please… don’t kill me.”
Tanner picked up the radio the tall man had dropped. He held it out to the short man.
“Use the radio to call Smith. I want to talk to him.”
The short man fumbled the device, as he only had one working arm. He was losing a great deal of blood, while color was draining from his face. Once he made contact, he handed Tanner the radio.
“It’s Jones. He takes Smith’s calls.”
“This is Tanner, put Smith on.”
“What? Who are you?”
“Tanner, let me talk to Smith.”
There was silence for several moments, followed by the sound of a cultured voice with an English accent. Despite the accent, the arrogant tone and cadence of Smith’s voice reminded Tanner of a man he’d recently met in New Jersey named Frank Richards, who headed an organization known as The Conglomerate.
“If you’re talking to me, Tanner, I take it that Mr. Phelps is deceased.”
“He is, and you’ll be joining him.”
“I think not. You have no idea who I am and no way of finding out.”
“True, but I have a long memory, and I won’t stop looking for you.”
Andrea moved toward Tanner and reached for the radio. Tanner let her take it, and Andrea screamed into it.
“You killed my father! I hate you.”
Smith’s laughter came over the speaker and Andrea sobbed. Tanner took the radio again.
“We’ll meet someday, Smith. When we do, you’ll regret today.”
“Goodbye, Tanner. Maybe you’ll think twice before taking your next contract. Sometimes the target fights back.”
The transmission ended, and Tanner tossed the unit away.
Andrea pointed at the short man in the safari suit.
“What about him?”
Tanner took out his gun and shot the man twice in the chest. The short man had been opening his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a death rattle, as he lay on his back.
Andrea was surprised by the sudden violence, but when she looked up from the body, she leaned into Tanner and hugged him about the waist.
“Thank you.”
They got in the jeep and Andrea made a request.
“Take me to my father.”
“Are you sure about that? He was shot in the head.”
“I want to see what that bastard Smith did to him.”
Tanner put the jeep in gear and headed back to where the nightmare began.
66
Finish Line
BAJA CALIFORNIA, MEXICO, JULY 1998
With fifteen minutes to go, Spenser left the air-conditioned comfort of his truck and stepped outside into a blast-furnace of a day. He was where the two race routes came together. Cody’s route was on his right, while Romeo’s route was to the left. The finish line was a white streak that Spenser had spray-painted across the sand. Written above the line in red letters were two words, TANNER SEVEN.
Both routes curved out of sight about two hundred yards away and the intense temperature was sending up shimmering waves of heat from the hot sand.
With less than twelve minutes to go, movement on the right caught Spenser’s eye. It was Cody, and he was moving as fast as Spenser had ever seen him motor. Spenser had set his watch to countdown mode. When he looked at it, he saw that there were eleven minutes and seventeen seconds left. Spenser held the record by finishing at twenty-three hours, forty-nine minutes, and twenty-eight seconds. Cody was on track to set a new record.
“Come on, boy!” Spenser shouted.
Cody didn’t move any faster, because he couldn’t. He was already giving the run everything he had.
Spenser checked his watch as Cody flew past the finish line, then let out a laugh. Cody beat his old record by three seconds.
After opening the truck, Spenser grabbed a damp blanket from off the seat along with a gallon jug of water. Cody accepted the water while still gasping in air, then poured some of it over his head. When Spenser draped the damp coolness of the blanket over him, Cody released a sigh, then gulped from the bottle. When the jug was empty, he asked a question.
“Romeo?”
“Not yet,” Spenser said, as he stared at Cody with unabashed pride.
Cody grinned. “I did it!”
“Yes sir, and welcome to the club. This race was the idea of Tanner three. Out of his five apprentices, the first four failed miserably. He had begun to think it was too tough until Tanner four made it. Since then, nineteen men have run this race, and in this kind of heat. You’re only the fifth to make it, and damn if you don’t have the record now too.”
Cody looked shocked by that news.
“I beat your record?”
“By three seconds, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Cody broke eye contact.
“I read your letter… I love you too, Spenser.”
Spenser tousled Cody’s wet hair, then gestured at the truck.
“Go sit in the air-conditioning; there’s more water in there.”
“I’ll take the water, but I’ll wait out here. I want to watch Romeo win too.”
Spenser checked his watch and saw that there were six minutes left.
Cody had been grabbing another bottle of water, seeing the
look on Spenser’s face, he knew what he must be thinking.
“He’ll make it,” Cody said.
Spenser nodded. “I know he’s got it in him. I just hope my note to him didn’t backfire.”
“What do you mean? Your note inspired me.”
“I love Romeo, you know I do, but telling him that in a letter wouldn’t light a fire under him, so I challenged him.”
“You dared him to finish?”
“Not exactly, but I was hoping he’d take it that way.”
Cody laughed. “He does love a challenge.”
With less than two minutes remaining, Cody’s confidence over Romeo’s ability had turned into concern for his well-being.
“Maybe we should go look for him. What if he’s passed out?”
“He’ll be here,” Spenser said.
Thirty seconds later, there was still no sign of him. Cody hung his head. As much as he wanted to come out on top and be named Tanner Seven someday, he found it hard to imagine training without Romeo at his side.
“Look!” Spenser said.
Cody did look, and what he saw made him laugh and pump his fist in the air. Romeo came around the bend running full out and looking like a man pursued by the Devil.
“He’s got only thirty-eight seconds left,” Spenser said.
“C’mon, Romeo!” Cody cried out, and could see the look of determination etched on his friend’s sunburned face. Romeo’s cap had fallen off over an hour earlier and he’d dared not stop to reclaim it; his wild yellow hair looked like a madman’s halo.
“Ten seconds,” Spenser said.
“C’mon, Romeo. You can make it!” Cody shouted.
Romeo flew past the finish line in a blur and Cody looked at Spenser.
“Did he do it?”
“Hell yeah he did, with six seconds to spare.”
They turned to find Romeo sprawled in the sand near the truck. His breathing was rapid, but shallow, and despite the heat, he wasn’t sweating.
Young Guns Box Set - Books 1-4: A Tanner Series (Young Gun Box Sets) Page 23
