“Yes.”
“Are there many like you?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“Have you killed terrorists, miss?”
“Yes. Eight or nine, I’m not sure of the count.”
“You say that with about as much emotion as ordering a hamburger. You’re taking a human life.”
“Human life is the cheapest commodity on the face of the earth, George.” Barry startled him. “Ask any terrorist. We’re down in the trenches now. With the rats and the snakes and the slime.”
“And you, both of you, are slime-free?”
“No,” Cutter admitted. “Unfortunately, no. That’s what you and your colleagues can’t understand. Or won’t understand. The constitutional rights, civil rights, and many of the other so-called guarantees have been stretched to the breaking point. All you people can do is bemoan the rights of the poor criminal.”
George didn’t like that, and it showed on his face. But he was smart enough to know he was up against a stone wall with Barry and Cutter.
He crawled back into the bunk and stretched out. “Wake me up when we get to Louisville, please.”
George Stanton called his network from the Louisville affiliate. He told them he’d had a chance to get a toehold on what just might be the biggest story of the decade and had to leave in a hurry.
He didn’t know anything about any kidnapping or any phone call from some man. It was probably a crank call. Disregard it.
The network told George that they would agree only if a cameraman be allowed to accompany him; that would insure that his story about being safe was true.
“Four people in the truck?” Cutter said to Barry. “No way!”
Barry put in a call to Jackson from the motel in Louisville.
“I wouldn’t trust that damned Stanton any further than I could toss an elephant,” Jackson said.
“Oddly enough,” Barry said. “I do trust him. And if he gets this story right, it could mean a real step forward in combatting terrorism.”
“It could also mean the end of your work,” Jackson reminded the Dog. “Not to mention hurting the administration very badly.”
“I’m aware of that. But I think it’s a risk worth taking to get some press types on our side, instead of them taking cheap shots at anyone trying to get the government back to dead center.”
“It’s your ass, Dog. Your show.”
Jackson hung up.
Barry called the Louisville station. Stanton had taken a cab from the motel.
“Call your cameraman, George. Tell your network people that there might be days at a stretch where you’ll be out of touch. I’ll get busy arranging transportation for you.”
While George was arranging for a cameraman, Cutter was on the horn to her people, setting up a vehicle.
“The cameraman will be here on the four-fifteen flight from National,” George informed them.
“You’ll be driving a Ford Bronco,” Barry told him. “You’ll be handed the keys at the airport. Don’t ask the person any questions. Just stow your gear and move out.”
“Real cloak-and-dagger stuff, huh, Barry?”
Barry ignored that. “The Bronco will be fully radio-equipped. Preset and turned on. Get on Interstate sixty-four and stay on it. We’ll pick you up.”
“Where?”
“We’ll pick you up, George. Don’t sweat it. See you sometime tonight.”
Barry hung up. Turned to Cutter. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Cutter and Barry were waiting in a rest area in Illinois when the Bronco rolled past. It had been dark for several hours.
Barry rolled out onto the slab and caught up with the Bronco. He lifted the mike to his lips. “Heads up, George. We’re sitting on your donkey.”
“My what?” George radioed back.
Cutter took the mike. “Your ass.”
Several seconds of silence on the scrambled frequency. “Oh. Yes, I see. Now what?”
“That doesn’t look like a cameraman, George.”
“It isn’t. Her name is Bonnie. She’s one of the best.”
“I’ll take your word for that. Last name?”
“O’Neal.”
Cutter and Barry exchanged glances.
“Wonderful,” Cutter muttered.
“Lots of Americans are named O’Neal and O’Brian and O’Mally and O’-whatever, Cutter. Ninety-nine percent of them would spit on a terrorist if they saw one.”
“And that other one percent?”
“I know what you mean.”
“Are you there?” George radioed.
“Can’t you see us?”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“We’ll pull ahead of you people,” Barry told him. “Stay with us. We’ll pick up seventy in St. Louis and take that most of the way west. These radios will knock your hat off for a hundred miles or more. It’s doubtful we’ll lose contact. Are either of you hungry?”
Both were.
“Trucking with these two just might turn out to be a real pain in the butt,” Cutter bitched.
Barry laughed at her, then keyed the mike. “We’ll eat in St. Louis. I’m coming around you now. Stay with me and don’t worry about the speed limit.”
Barry signaled, pulled over into the left lane, and came around the Bronco. Both of them caught a glimpse of a short blonde sitting on the passenger side.
“Looks cute.” Barry stuck the needle to Cutter.
She rolled her eyes and chose not to reply.
“I’m Barry and this is Cutter.” He introduced them to Bonnie O’Neal.
Where Cutter was tall and shapely and dark-haired and lovely, Bonnie was short and shapely and blonde and lovely. Fair-skinned and blue-eyed. She looked like she could take care of herself, and probably had on more than one occasion.
Barry had been around the horn himself a time or two and could tell when interest sprang into a woman’s eyes. And with Bonnie, it didn’t just spring, it came snarling and hissing.
“Just Barry and Cutter?” Bonnie asked.
“They’ll do,” Barry told her. “You two go on and get something to eat.” He handed George a large thermos. “When you come back, have this filled with coffee, black, and a sack full of sandwiches.”
“You’re not joining us?” George asked.
“We can’t leave the rig. Too easy for someone to slap explosives on us.”
“Isn’t that being a bit melodramatic?” Bonnie asked.
“Understand this now,” Cutter said, a touch of heat in her tone. “I’ve had twenty-five thousand dollars on my head for the last two years. Most of the people I work with have rewards out on them from various terrorist groups. Barry tops the list. He’s got a hundred and fifty thousand dollars on his head. They would prefer to catch us alive, so they could torture us. I’ve personally seen what they did to one woman.” Her eyes locked into Bonnie’s blues. “Imagine the most horrible of perversions, and then magnify it a hundred times. And what they can do to male agents is equally awful. Melodramatic, Miss O’Neal? No. Now, do you understand all that?”
“Perfectly. Oh, and Cutter. My grandparents were killed in an IRA ambush about five years ago. I have two cousins in the S.A.S. I just thought you’d like to know. And here’s something else for you to chew on: Big tall chicks who think they’re tough don’t impress me worth a fuck!”
She spun around and walked off.
George cleared his throat. “I didn’t have time to warn either of you. Bonnie can be extremely crude at times. Well, I’ll get you something to eat and some coffee. See you in a few minutes.”
Barry chuckled. “This run should be quite interesting, Cutter.”
Cutter turned slowly and stared at him. “Dog, screw you!”
“Think we have time before they return?”
She socked him on the arm. Left a bruise that stayed with him for a week.
11
Dawn found them a few miles west of Topeka, Kansas, Cutter driving. She was just signaling for a turn into
a rest area when Barry climbed out of the bunk and slipped into the seat.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“No. But I imagine that’s a pretty tired pair back there, don’t you?”
“I’m sure. It’s about ten hours from here to Denver, and I want us all to be heads-up fresh. If it’s all right with you, we’ll run until about noon and check into a motel. Let them shower and rest for a few hours in a bed. We’ll take turns watching the truck. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
While Cutter went to the bathroom, Barry walked back to the Bronco.
“We’ll run for a few more hours, then pull over and get some motel rooms. You both can shower and get some rest in a bed.”
“And you and Cutter?” George asked.
“We’ll rent a room, but only one of us will be in it at a time. The truck has to be guarded.”
“Barry?” Bonnie got out of the Bronco. “I’m sorry I popped off to Cutter back up the road. Perhaps it’s partly because both of you seem to take this job so seriously and because George has told me how you both feel about the press.”
“We take it seriously, Bonnie, because both our asses are on the line. I’m sure as a cameraperson you’ve been under fire.”
She nodded her head.
“Not a very enjoyable experience, was it?”
“No.”
“Fine. Then you’ll understand why we appear so ready at all times.”
Her face tightened at that.
“George told you our deal about the film and the copy?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t like it?”
“Not worth a damn!”
“Well, Bonnie. It’s like my mother used to say about castor oil: you might not like it, but it’s good for you.”
“I don’t understand the comparison.”
“Because if you try to sneak film past me, even if you do succeed in airing it, I’ll kill you.”
Barry turned and walked away.
Bonnie looked at George. “Do you believe him?”
“Oh, yes. You remember the stories we’ve heard about that combination Robin Hood/vigilante truck driver that’s been roaming the highways for about a year?”
“Sure. Just stories, that’s all.”
George shook his head. “All true. I just put it together. You just met the Dog, my dear.”
They checked into a motel at Hays, Kansas. Barry offered to stay with the truck the first shift, allowing Cutter to take a long bath and some sleep in a king-size bed. He didn’t get any argument from her about that.
They had made the run in just over four hours and Barry was going to let them all rest a full eight hours. He planned to be back on the road by about nine that night.
He felt they would be hit that night; and the logical spot would be in Colorado, between Limon and Byers, on that stretch of Interstate 70 that turned and ran northwest.
Barry had showered and shaved and changed into fresh clothing. He told Cutter he’d see her in about five or six hours.
He was making a visual inspection of the truck when he sensed movement behind him. He spun around, the 9mm in his hand.
Bonnie.
“Whoa!” she held up a hand, her face paling just a bit.
“Damn, you people are jumpy, aren’t you?”
“We manage to stay alive.” He tucked the 9mm back into a shoulder rig, then checked his watch. “You didn’t get much sleep, Bonnie.”
“Four hours. That’s about all I ever get or need.”
“Let’s get in the truck. It’s cold out here.
She climbed up and sat in the passenger seat, looking very much like a school kid. A well-endowed school kid.
“You can sure see a lot from up here, can’t you?”
Barry said nothing. Just wondered what she wanted. He wasn’t sure he trusted her.
She cut her blues at him. “Are you the man that’s called the Dog?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Talk. Gossip. Rumors.”
Barry chose not to reply.
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“I don’t trust any reporter or anyone who works for a news-gathering organization. Print or broadcast.”
“You’re trusting George.”
“George is scared of me. With good reason. He knows if he lies to me or tries to pull some sneak-preview of films or copy that I haven’t approved of, I’ll kill him.”
“I didn’t believe you when you told me that a few hours ago.”
“And now?”
“I guess I believe it. It’s so preposterous it has a ring of truth to it.”
“Don’t guess, Bonnie. Just believe it.”
“I’d like to hear the story of your life, Barry.”
“Why?”
She smiled and shook her head. Barry liked the set of her chin and her mouth. She reminded him of another lady who used to be a reporter for a big network. He hadn’t seen her for a long time; wondered what happened to her.
She caught him looking at her. “What are you thinking?”
“That I haven’t been with a woman, sexually, for a long time.”
“Cutter? You mean you haven’t been sleeping with that big chick?”
“No. It isn’t wise to mix business with pleasure.”
“This is insane! I’m talking sex with a man I don’t even know!”
“And don’t even like,” Barry added for her.
“I don’t know about that. Maybe. You’re … different. I hate these macho sons of bitches. They’re the most superficial bunch of jock-bastards going. And most of them are stupid. What kind of music do you like?”
“I listen to all kinds. But I prefer, when I’m alone or relaxing, to listen to classical.”
“No kidding? Me, too. Lots of bad stuff going around now.”
Barry knew she wasn’t talking about rock and roll music.
“Yeah, I know. The doctors say I’m not carrying nor contagious.”
“It’s all so complicated now,” she said with a sigh. “I never did sleep around much. Only when the pressure got to the boiling point. Cold showers will work for just so long.”
“I know that, too.”
“That’s hard to believe about you and Cutter.”
“But true.”
“She likes you, Barry. A lot. I can tell.”
“She knows better than to let it go further.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be an impossible situation. She knows it and I know it.”
Dusk was spreading its gentle cloak around the land.
“Cutter will be out here any minute.”
Bonnie cut her eyes toward him. “That’s probably a lie. But whatever you say. You’re not going to take your eyes off those mirrors long enough to make love, are you, Dog?”
“That’s right … Bitch.”
“In heat. You think I came out here to get you in that … thing back there”—she jerked a thumb toward the sleeper—“while someone plants a bomb on this truck, don’t you?”
“That thought did enter my mind.”
What he didn’t tell her was that he had called Jackson and requested a fast security check on Miss Bonnie O’Neal. He was to pick it up in Denver.
Now he was going to set her up.
“You’re a cold-blooded bastard, Dog.”
He picked up a road map. “Even bastards get hard-ons, Bonnie.”
“What the hell does a road map have to do with making out?”
“I’m just going to warn you. I figure on pulling out of here about nine o’clock. We’ll be inside Colorado by that time. And that’s when I figure they’re going to hit us. Between the state line and Burlington. If we make it past that point, we can relax to Denver.”
“George said you were running empty. Just junk. That you were only bait.”
“I lied.”
She knew better than to ask him what specifically he was pulling. For more than one reason. “I’ll b
e in my room.”
“You want me to scratch on the door or to just howl?”
She opened the door. “I don’t know that I want you to do a goddamn thing.” She stepped down the ladder and walked across the parking lot to her room.
Barry noted that she had a terrific ass.
Cutter slipped into the truck about forty-five minutes later.
“You let me sleep too long. You should have awakened me.”
“You needed the rest. Besides, I’ve been busy setting up Miss Bonnie.”
“You sure you haven’t been laying her down?”
“Not yet.” He explained what he’d done and Cutter nodded her approval. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes. You go ahead and eat and nap for a while. Or screw Miss O’Neal. Whatever.”
He grinned at her. “We all have to make sacrifices, Cutter. It’s for the good of the country.”
He left the truck in a hurry, before she could wind up and punch him again.
He ate and then walked to Bonnie’s room. Pressing his ear to the door, he could hear her voice, but could not make out the words. He walked to George’s room. Through a crack in the drapes, he could see the man sitting, watching TV. So Miss Bonnie must be on the phone.
But to whom?
He walked back to her room and listened. She was off the phone. He knocked softly on the door.
She opened it just a crack, peeking out at him. She stepped back and waved him on in. He noticed very quickly that she was not wearing a bra under her T-shirt.
“Where’s the big chick?”
“In the truck.”
“She won’t leave it?”
“No.”
She looked at her watch. “We’ve got two and a half hours before you said we’d pull out.”
She was very defensive, her eyes cool.
All right, Barry thought. If that’s the way you want to play it. “Yeah. Time for a short jump and a long nap.”
She reared back and took a swing at him.
It hadn’t been rape. Not exactly.
Barry’s torn shirt lay in one corner of the room, Bonnie’s equally ruined T-shirt in another corner. His cowboy boots were in a chair. Had she been able to put them where she at first told him she’d like to shove them, they would have needed a good polishing.
Her jeans were ruined, the zipper torn open. Barry’s underwear shorts were ripped.
It had been mostly a silent struggle, and not one where either one of them had really been trying to hurt the other. It had been a power struggle.
18 Wheel Avenger Page 9
