Cactus Garden

by Ward, Robert

  Less than twenty seconds later he saw them, the three men, on the other side. They came slowly down to the clearing, moving cautiously, not speaking.

  Their leader, the one with the pistol and the searchlight, looked up and down the river. Then he turned on his powerful lamp and trained it on the other side of the river, sweeping it up and down the bank. Jack felt panic rising in his stomach.

  The light played across the bank, at first landing on the logs under which Wingate and Charlotte Rae were hiding. It stayed there for what seemed like forever, before moving on, sweeping downstream until it landed on Jack’s log.

  He sucked in his breath deeply and ducked underwater, but the light stayed right over him, like a halo.

  Jack waited, his chest burning. It almost seemed amusing to him, that he could be so wet and yet his lungs felt as though they were literally roasting over a bonfire. He would have to come up soon, then it would be all over. They would pick him off with their M-16s.

  But at last, the leader moved the searchlight on.

  And then Jack heard him grunt to the other two men.

  “Go. Over there.”

  Jack came up, gasping, raising his head just above the level of the log. The two men hesitated for a second, looking at one another. Though he couldn’t see their faces, he knew what they were thinking: What if someone was waiting for them?

  Suddenly Jack felt clammy with fear again.

  What if the killers decided to split up, one of them crossing at another place? That would spoil everything. He was counting on the fact that they wouldn’t play it that way. They had to figure that the three people they were chasing were scared shitless, were just trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible.

  Jack waited, cocking the gun.

  He watched as the two men came across the stream. They moved awkwardly, their M-16s slung over their backs. He got them in his sights, waited, waited, the smell of his own fear making him gag.

  As they moved closer, the leader on the other side started sweeping the light back again. Jack wanted to wait until they were ten yards away, nearly on top of Wingate and Charlotte Rae, but if the light came over him then, he would be blinded. Finished. It was now or never.

  He aimed at the first man, a short, black-haired man with a great black beard. Aimed at the center of his chest.

  And fired.

  There was a flash of light and then a scream in the still night. The man fell heavily backward into the dark water.

  The second man panicked for a split second, trying desperately to get his carbine off his shoulder. Jack saw the searchlight beam sweeping toward him and fired again, but missed.

  Now the man was no longer coming toward Jack’s side of the river. Instead, he fled toward the side from which he came.

  The man with the spotlight was still on the shore, taking out his pistol, but he seemed confused, hesitant, and Jack knew that now was his chance. It wasn’t enough to scare them back…. They would simply wait in the trees, until Jack, Wingate, and Charlotte Rae came out of their hiding places. He had to take the offensive now, while the element of surprise worked in his favor. He surfaced from his hiding place and began to wade directly toward the fleeing man, screaming wildly as he went.

  “Ooooooooh piggggg, Sooooooieeeeeee!!”

  The man in the water was panicked now. He half turned and saw a madman with a gun coming toward him, shooting, screaming some mad, savage pig gibberish. He let out a frightened cry and waded furiously toward the shore. Jack fired at his back, and the man toppled into the water and was borne downstream by the current. This left only the man with the light … but when he saw what had happened to the second of the two assassins, he dropped the light and ran down the beach, into the trees.

  Jack dove back into the water now and headed toward Wingate and Charlotte Rae.

  “Come on. Both of you.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Wingate said. “You called the hogs, son. That was fucking amazing.”

  “Thank Bill Clinton for me,” Jack said. “But we still have to get to the rope bridge and then to your house. How far is it?”

  “About a hundred yards north,” Charlotte Rae said. “But what if that other one …?”

  She shuddered and looked suddenly lovely and afraid.

  “I don’t think he’ll bother us,” Jack said. “They’re finished for tonight. Come on.”

  Wingate looked at Jack and shook his head.

  “You saved my life, son,” he said. “You didn’t learn all that body guarding for Rizzo, now did you?”

  “Not all of it,” Jack said. “I did a little tour with the Army … Ranger unit.”

  “Be all you can fucking be.” Buddy whistled. “Son of a bitch. Well, I guess I owe you an explanation.”

  “Save it,” Jack said. “We’ve got a ways to go.”

  Wingate nodded gravely. There was nothing of the wild redneck yahoo in his face anymore. He looked sober and deadly serious.

  “Then let’s get to it,” he said.

  They crawled up the moonlit riverbank then and, crouching low, moved fast toward the bridge.

  They arrived back at the house in forty minutes, soaking wet, and freezing cold. Snow had found its ways into Jack’s boots and his feet felt numb. When he took off his socks, he saw that his toes were blue.

  Charlotte Rae handed Jack a glass of brandy, and the three of them huddled by the fire. She’d taken off her dress and put on a plaid bathrobe and wool slippers. She drank her Courvoisier and nestled in Wingate’s big arms, her long right leg protruding from the robe, naked almost to the thigh. Jack had a splitting headache from the tension generated in the chase, but it was nothing compared to the ache he felt in his groin.

  “Guess you want to know what the hell that was all about out there tonight,” Wingate said.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact,” Jack said.

  Jack liked the sound of his own voice now. He sounded tough, in control … and for now, maybe he was.

  “Well, I aim to tell you,” Wingate said, getting up and walking with a flourish to the corner bar.

  “You see, when I started Discount Rodeo, I had a partner named Salazar. Latino boy … smart, good with the women. Him and me had us some real good times … gambling and hustling the gals … but I found out one day that this ole boy has some serious problems with drugs…. Turns out he’s knocking down on our profits. So I tell him I want to dissolve the partnership…. Course he don’t want to…. It turns out it’s all he’s got. Well, to make a sad story short, things took a turn toward UGLY, and we had a very unpleasant divorce. He ended up in jail. Day he went to stir, he swore vengeance. Tonight he almost got himself a piece.”

  Wingate shook his head, as if he were depressed by the vileness of human kind, picked up a shimmering crystal decanter of brandy, and poured Jack and Charlotte Rae generous drinks.

  “Son, you handled yourself real good out there tonight. I could use a guy like you. Help me out … with this here problem. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time you done this line of work.”

  Jack smiled, shook his head.

  ‘Salazar,” he said. “He get sprung out of jail?”

  “Two weeks ago,” Wingate said. “So what about it? The pay is gonna be top dollar.”

  “It ought to be,” Charlotte Rae said, smiling at Jack.

  Jack smiled at her, stayed in character.

  “Thanks,” he said, “but I don’t think so, Buddy.”

  Wingate looked genuinely surprised and a little hurt.

  “Why the hell not?” he said.

  “What difference does it make?” Jack said, smiling and taking a sip of the brandy. “I just don’t think I want the gig.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” Wingate said. “ ‘Cause I seen you down at the stream tonight, and you didn’t even sweat.”

  “I don’t think Jack’s afraid of anything,” Charlotte Rae said, staring into his eyes now.

  ‘Well, you’re both w
rong there,” Jack said. “I was plenty scared. But that isn’t the reason. It’s just that I’m looking for something bigger than ‘companion’ work these days. That was all fine when I was a kid, but a man’s gotta move onward and upward.”

  Wingate smiled and shook his head. “You got something better, that it?”

  “Nope,” Jack said, smiling. “Not a damned thing. But that’s the beauty of my situation. Long as I’m not tied up with a job, I can keep on looking.”

  “Till your money runs out,” Wingate said, but there was a kind of admiration in his voice.

  “I don’t think Jack cares about the money so much,” Charlotte Rae said. “It’s something else he’s looking for. I wonder what it might be?”

  She smiled at Jack and sipped her brandy.

  “Me too,” Wingate said. “I wonder. Well, here’s to our new friendship and to wasting our enemies. And if you change your mind, Jack, you come and see me.”

  Jack clicked his glass with Wingate and his wife. He could have taken the job then and there, but something told him not to. Not just yet. They had to want him more. Both of them. Then he’d suck them both in.

  If he didn’t get involved with her. If he could keep himself cooled out, everything was going to work out just fine. Right now, he was running the show.

  Chapter 9

  Two days later, Jack sat in Topper’s Bar, recounting his adventures to C.J.

  “Man, you are lucky you are here, baby,” C.J. said.

  “Don’t tell me you’d miss me,” Jack said.

  “No, I wouldn’t miss you exactly,” C.J. said. “I didn’t say that. But sometimes I think maybe you one of the few white people who got potential.”

  “Well, I’m deeply flattered,” Jack said.

  “How did Zampas take it?” C.J. said.

  “He asked me why I didn’t kill the other guy too,” Jack said, smiling.

  C.J. laughed as he washed off a pizza serving plate.

  “He spoils you. No doubt about it. Well, I’m glad you ain’t got any new holes in your head, partner.”

  C.J. smiled, then looked toward the door, as they both heard a car horn.

  “My lunch date,” Jack said.

  “You be careful what you eat,” C.J. said. “Cream puffs can be fatal.”

  Jack looked out the doorway at Charlotte Rae Wingate in her red vintage ‘65 T-Bird. She’d called that morning, said she was picking up the car at the shop, and offered to take him for a ride to the beach.

  “Don’t worry, partner,” Jack said. “I’m into health foods this week.”

  He smiled, put down a glass, and headed to the street.

  “I missed you, Jack,” she said, sitting across from him in the red bucket seat and downshifting as if she were an old hand at Daytona.

  “Really?” Jack said. “How about Buddy, did he miss me too?”

  “You’re too hard on him,” she said. “He’s very grateful.”

  Jack laughed and looked her over. She had on a tight black knit blouse and Levi’s that fit her like they’d been molded onto her legs.

  “Funny, I would never have taken him for the grateful type.”

  She laughed, a little nervously Jack thought, as they roared out Sunset toward the beach.

  “Did you just think I was going to disappear?” she said. And though she was smiling, there was pain in her voice.

  “I guess I thought our business was over,” Jack said, coolly.

  She smiled and rubbed her right hand sensuously over her right leg.

  “I was hoping maybe you’d miss me,” she said, downshifting and pulling away from the light at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.

  “Yeah. Maybe I did, a little,” Jack said. She turned and looked at him and wet her lips with her tongue.

  “You seem nervous, Jack. Do I make you nervous?”

  “Nah,” Jack said. “Maybe it’s a little bit dangerous hanging out with you, that’s all.”

  “Gee,” she said, “I would have thought you’d like a challenge.”

  “A challenge is one thing,” Jack said, dropping the sexual banter. “Hanging around with people who might and up dead is another. Especially when they’re not straight with me.”

  “I don’t have any idea what you mean,” she said.

  “Sure you do,” Jack said. “You don’t think I really bought that story about your competitors trying to gun you down because of some cooked books?”

  She looked at him and shook her head.

  “I don’t know why not,” she said. “Discount’s a ruthless business.”

  “So’s summer camp,” Jack said. “Tell me another story.” She smiled and patted his thigh.

  “Don’t be mad. Look, I never discuss my husband’s business. It must be awful to be so suspicious of everybody.”

  “I’m not … of everybody,” Jack said.

  Charlotte Rae hit the accelerator, and the T-Bird screamed around the banked curves in front of UCLA.

  “You look so serious,” Charlotte Rae said. She trod the accelerator and sent the T-Bird speeding through the light at the Bel Air gate.

  “Why don’t you reach back there into the boot. I’ve got something to lighten your mood.”

  Jack reached behind him and felt something cold. He pulled out a bottle of freezing Cristal. She smiled at him…. There was a sudden sweetness in that smile, as if she enjoyed giving him pleasure. He twisted off the gold wrapping and popped the cap. The champagne came spilling out fast and stained the front of his shirt.

  “What a waste,” Charlotte Rae said, staring across at him. “There’s glasses back there too.”

  Jack reached back again, found an ice bucket and two glasses. Delicately, he poured the champagne and handed Charlotte Rae a glass.

  She smiled and held up her glass, and the sun glistened off the crystal.

  “To new friendships,” she said.

  “To surviving long enough to make them,” Jack said. “Now, there’s a romantic toast,” she said, pouting. “It’s against the rules to be romantic with a married woman,” Jack said, staring at her. “I guess so,” she said.

  “On the other hand,” Jack said, “maybe I want to forget some of the rules.”

  She looked nervous at that. Jack poured her another glass of champagne. She drank it and shook her head.

  “Sometimes I think that it was listening to the rules that got me here in the first place.”

  Jack poured the last two glasses of champagne into her glass. They were moving fast downhill past the entrance to Will Rogers State Park.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve seen worse jails.”

  “What do you know about it, tough guy?” she said.

  He wanted to reach over, grab her wrist. But he couldn’t let that go down—not now, not anytime.

  “Driver, where you taking me?” he said, laughing.

  “Fantasyland,” she said.

  “Buddy going to be there dressed like the March Hare?” Jack said.

  “No,” she said. “Buddy’s out of town. I thought you might like to see our place at the beach.”

  “Sounds nice,” Jack said. “My only question is, does Buddy know where you are?”

  “Of course,” she said. “He sent me.”

  That set him back again. He knew it was true, but he hadn’t expected her to cop to it so quickly.

  “He sent me because he wants me to convince you to come see him again. He wants you to work for him.”

  “Then we’re both wasting time,” Jack said.

  “I told him that it was useless,” Charlotte Rae said, shrugging and smiling at him.

  “Then why are you here?” Jack said.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. She looked away quickly from him. He felt his heart quicken.

  “Maybe it’s because of the way you listen,” she said. “I have a weakness for men who like to hear my story.”

  “Yeah, but you got a lot of weaknesses,” he said. She sighed and reached over and rubbed his cheek.
“Buddy says it gives me texture.”

  He started to say only assholes use words like “texture,” but her hand was too hot on his skin, and suddenly he was short of breath.

  The house was seventy-five feet from the ocean. It was made of redwood and glass, and just sitting on the beachfront porch made Jack feel as though he had entered a miniseries.

  “I used to dream of having a place like this,” Jack said. “A place where you could hear the surf all night. It’s fantastic.”

  Charlotte Rae walked to the steps. She kicked off her sandals and ran down to the ocean.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Jack said. “Could be that after a certain amount of time, you don’t want to dream of things you can never have. It makes you bitter, and only losers are bitter.”

  “I think there’s nothing sadder than seeing people give up their dreams,” Charlotte Rae said. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

  He left the champagne bottle on the porch and joined her by the sea. They walked close to the water, so that a fine mist covered both of them.

  “You’re wrong about dreams,” Jack said. “There’s something sadder than giving them up.”

  “What, Mr. Philosopher?” she said, turning and looking at him with a sincerity that belied her flip tone.

  “When you have to pay too high a price for them,” Jack said.

  “Do you think I have?” she said.

  “Only you would know that,” Jack said.

  They came to an inlet, and Jack found a large smooth rock. She sat down on it and looked at the sun sinking over the Pacific.

  “I know what you think,” she said, “but I still believe you have to be willing to take a risk to get what you want. You think Buddy’s a crude asshole … but he’s brave, and I love him for that.”

  Jack nodded and took her hand.

  “You’re going to have to give a better reading than that,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when you got to the part where you had to say ‘love,’ you looked at the ground.”