“Want me to tone it down?” Tony’s voice came over the radio.
“Angela?” Johnny asked.
“No. Give me another chance. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Let her have it,” Johnny said. He looked over his shoulder to Saul. “What do you think? Will she scream again or not?”
He thought about it. “Not.”
“Prepare to roll cameras,” Johnny said. “We’ll see if you’re right.” He waited until the car was back to the starting mark. “Roll cameras.”
“Speed!”
“Action!”
“There, there, there!” Angela called, pointing out the window as she hung on, the car slewing around the turn.
“And cut!” Johnny said. “Reset, let’s do it again.”
“How are you going to be able to hear what she says over the engine noise?” Saul asked. All they could hear from the in car sound was the roar of the big V8.
“We’ll ADR it in later, along with some better engine sounds,” Johnny explained as Tony drove back to the starting point and prepared for another run.
“ADR?”
“Automated Dialog Recording. Some people calling it dubbing. The actors will go to a sound stage and say their lines again, and the editor will replace the location sound with the clean sound.”
“So why record sound on location at all?”
Johnny grinned. “Good question. Some directors don’t. They do everything with Foley, ADR and sound effects, but I think the live sound has a richer, more realistic feel, so that’s what I use when I can.”
“Foley?”
Johnny chuckled. “A lot of terms, aren’t there? Foley is a bunch of men and women who add all the ambient sounds. Footsteps, the squeak of a seat, the ruffle of a coat, the sound of someone pulling their gun from the holster, anything you need that you didn’t get live.”
Saul nodded in understanding, once again amazed at all the effort that goes into making a movie. No wonder they cost fifty million dollars to make. “How is that different than sound effects?”
“They’re not, really, but typically sound effects are prerecorded sounds added in later, things like the motorcycle sounds you were complaining about, or gunshots, where Foley Artists actually make the noises live for the shot as they watch it on a screen.”
Johnny turned his attention back to the car as it pulled to a stop. “Ready? Action!” he said.
Instead of watching the monitor, this time Saul watched the car slew around the corner, but then it suddenly hooked right and plowed into one the cars parked at the edge of the road, bounce off, and spun across the road to hit another car. The crew stood frozen for an instant, then burst into motion.
Saul ran for the car, several other Pagans also running for the accident, as the crew ran after them, several men carrying fire extinguishers. He skidded to a stop on the passenger side of the car. Angela was sitting there, looking stunned and out of sorts.
“Angela! Angela, are you okay?” he yelled, hammering on the window as people began to swarm. She didn’t answer, staring at him as if she didn’t recognize him, so he pulled his pistol and smashed the butt of it into the window. It shattered but didn’t break out, so he hit it again. He ignored the shouts of the crew as some began to pull the cameras off the car while others worked to get Bradley out.
“Angela! Are you okay?” he called as he knocked out the rest of glass on the window and leaned in.
“What? Yeah. I hit my head,” she said softly as she reached up to her temple.
He tried to release her seatbelt, but it was cinched tight and he couldn’t get it to release. He reached to his hip and pulled his knife, slicing the belt.
“Don’t move her!” a man yelled, pushing his way in beside Saul. “Angela! You okay? Any pain?” the man asked.
“My head.”
“Anywhere else?”
“I hit my arm on something.”
“Can you feel your legs? How about your back? Does that hurt?”
“What? No.” She started to rise out of her seat but the medic pushed her back.
“Just sit for a moment, okay?”
“I’m okay,” she said as she pushed his hand away and reached for Saul. “Help me out.”
“Jim! Get over here,” a man called. “Tony’s bleeding.”
The medic ducked out as Saul took Angela and helped her ease out of the car. “You okay?” he asked as he put her on the ground.
She wavered then steadied. “Yeah, I think so. Where’s Bradley?” she asked looking around.
“Getting out now.”
“He’s trapped,” Andy said, from the front of the car. “We need something to cut the steering wheel away.
“You okay for a minute?” he asked, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“Yeah.”
“I need to help with Tony.” He slowly turned her loose, then hurried to the front of the car. Tony’s compartment was bent around him, the steering wheel pressing into his legs. Andy was bent over in the compartment pulling on the wheel.
Saul climbed in, squeezing in on the other side of Tony. “How you doing, man?”
“I think my fucking foot is broken,” Tony hissed. “The wheel is cutting off the blood to my legs and they’re going numb.”
“We’re going to get you out of here, so just hang in there.”
“I can’t get the wheel up,” Andy said. “I think we’re going to have to cut it.”
“Let’s try it together. Caleb, Kyle, get this fucking hood out of the way!” Saul squirmed around until his back was against the firewall as Caleb and Kyle repeatedly slammed the hood back until it was bent out of the way. Andy, realizing what Saul was doing, turned, as well. Both men placed their foot against the top of the steering wheel and dug in to push.
“On three,” Andy said as he got into position. “One…two…three!” Saul and Andy strained, crying out in effort as they heaved with every fiber of their being. They felt the wheel move, but not enough.
“Again!” Saul ordered as Kyle and Caleb crawled up into the car and grabbed the wheel, as well. “One…two…three!” The four men strained, their veins standing out as they screamed in rage and effort, forcing the wheel up through sheer willpower.
“That’s got it!” someone cried as Tony began to struggle out of the seat. Andy and Saul stayed in their position until Tony was out, then they crawled out, as well.
Angela pulled out of Bradley’s embrace. He’d been trying to comfort her, but she needed Saul. She melted into him, her arms going around him, and she felt a wetness. She gasped, and pulled her hand back, staring at the blood.
“You’re bleeding!”
“What?” he asked, as he reached behind him and pulled back a bloody hand. “Shit.”
“Saul’s hurt!” she cried.
“I’m okay.”
“Let me take a look at it,” another medic said, rising from Tony’s side.
“You need to worry about Tony.”
“Jim’s taking good care of him. Now, let me see. Where’re you bleeding?”
“His back,” Angela said.
“I’m Greg, by the way,” the medic said as he turned Saul so he could see. “That’s a pretty nasty gash you have there.”
“I must have cut it on the car.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Greg said. “Let me clean you up and see what we’ve got.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Angela asked, clinging tightly to him.
“He’s going to be just fine,” Greg said. “This is going to sting.”
Saul hissed as Greg cleaned the wound. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, tipping her head up to look into her eyes.
“I have a headache, and I’m probably going to be sore, but yeah, I’m okay. Jim looked at my eyes and said I probably don’t have a concussion.”
“That’s good,” he said, gritting his teeth against the pain as Greg cleaned and dressed the wound.
“There. When was the last time you had
a tetanus shot?”
Saul shrugged. “A couple years ago, I think.”
“Then you should be good to go.” He smiled. “That was something, you and your men getting Tony out as quickly as you did.”
Saul smiled. “All part of the service.”
“I’m done for the day,” Angela said. “Get me away from here.”
Chapter Eighteen
“What happened to you?” Saw asked as Saul stiffly stepped out of Dallas’s SUV.
“Car wreck.”
Sam Mandel, Saw to his brothers, nodded in understanding. “Good thing you weren’t on your hog.”
“Yeah. You got the merchandise?”
“You got the money?”
Saul gave a jerk of his head and Caleb stepped forward, pulling an envelope with $4,000 in it out of his colors and handed it to Saw. Saw quickly counted it and folded it into his pocket. He waved and men brought forward four crates of fully automatic rifles. Andy opened the crates and quickly counted the Micro-Uzi SMGs inside. He picked one at random from each crate and quickly checked to make sure it was chambered for 9mm and not .45 ACP, worked the mechanism to check for smooth operation, and checked the manufacturer stamp to be sure these were French made, and not the Chinese made, models.
Andy looked up as he returned the last of the Uzis to its crate. “Looks good.”
“Been a pleasure,” Saul said, extending his hand as his men loaded the crates into the back of Dallas’s Tahoe then pulled the cargo cover closed to hide the merchandise from prying eyes.
“Same here,” Saw replied as the Killers turned and walked back to their bikes.
Saul hitched himself up into the SUV, placed his weapon back in the console, and closed the door. Normally he made this ride on his hog, along with the rest of the core team, but this time he decided to ride with Dallas. His back hurt, but not as much as his leg. He must have strained something pushing against the wheel. He’d started feeling it last night, but today it was killing him.
Production had closed down so they could investigate the cause of the crash. Angela, Bradley and Tony had spent the night in the hospital, for observation, despite Angela and Bradley’s protests. He’d sat with her for a while, then left as the Diazepam the doctor had given her pulled her into sleep. Thankfully, Tony was the only one seriously injured, his foot and ankle broken in three places and a deep cut on his leg that had required stitches.
When he limped into his house, he’d administered his own sedative, poured from a Jack Daniels bottle. The Jack had begun to take the edge off when Saul had called and reported his merchandise had arrived and was ready for pickup.
“Who are you calling?” Dallas asked as Saul worked his phone.
“Abana. I didn’t tell him his guns were here.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s not expecting them to arrive for another two days and I wanted to have them in my hands before I said anything to him. He’s pissed off enough as it is without me having to tell him about another delay. Saul Houston calling for Señor Abana.”
“Saul,” Abana said a moment later. “Do you have news for me?”
“Yes, sir. I have your next shipment in my possession. We are leaving Corpus Christie with them now.”
“When can I expect delivery?”
“You can have them this evening, if you’d like.”
“That will be acceptable. Say five, at our usual exchange spot?”
“We’ll be there.”
“See that you are.”
“What an asswipe,” Dallas said after Abana was gone. “He still acts like it was our fault he lost his damn guns.”
“I just want to get this behind us.”
“Yeah, but what if he loses…” Dallas began then allowed his voice to trail off.
“What?” Saul asked.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Dallas said, staring into his review.
Saul turned to peer between the seats. There were three brothers riding tail, the other fifteen in front in two groups, a group of ten riding well ahead watching for police stops or other legal entanglements, then five more running just in front of the Tahoe. Behind the trailing group he could see a peloton of at least twenty bikers closing fast. The brothers riding tail must not have liked it either as they began to fall back, putting some space between themselves and the Tahoe.
They were on Highway 44, between Robstown and Alice, and there was nothing for miles in either direction. It was a perfect place for an ambush.
“Let’s stay cool and see how it plays,” Saul said, still watching through the back window. The bikes caught them and began to flow around them in groups of three or four and he began to relax. The riders weren’t wearing colors, so maybe it was just another unpatched club out for a ride. He was watching the last of the riders pass when his phone rang.
“I’m out!” Angela said cheerfully. “Production is stopped at least until Friday. You want to do something? Oh, how’s your back?”
“It’s fine. Listen, can I call you back in a few minutes?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Just dealing with a problem at work. Give me a half hour or so and I’ll call you back.”
“Okay. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” he said then killed the call just as the brakes lights began lighting up on the bikes that had just passed them. “I don’t like this either,” he said, pulling his weapon out of the center console.
“What do you want to do?” Dallas asked, getting a good grip on the steering wheel. Katalin was going to be pissed if he bent up her Tahoe.
“Stay cool,” Saul said, but as the unpatched riders began to circle their bikes in the road for a roadblock, the brothers in the lead roared away, cutting through a gap before the bandits could close it. “Go!”
Dallas floored the Tahoe, the Chevy roaring as it clawed for speed. He couldn’t make the gap the bikes slipped through so he plowed into the bikes, trying to bull his way through and open a path for the following bikes. The Tahoe heaved and lunged, but a bike tangled underneath and dragged the straining Tahoe into the brush at the side of the road.
Saul and Dallas leapt from the SUV, their weapons out as the brothers in the lead and tail converged to help. Eleven riders and their bikes were down, some injured, from the Tahoe blowing through their attempted roadblock. The remaining nine riders still on their feet opened fire. Saul had the bulk of the Tahoe for protection, and he opened up, but the rest of his brothers weren’t so lucky. Dallas scrambled around the Chevy and added his fire, trying to take the pressure off their brothers stuck out in the open.
With fire coming in from three directions, the Pagans made short work of the men and cut them down in seconds.
“What the fuck!” Dallas snarled as he stared at Saul with wide eyes. The Pagans had been making this same drive for more than thirty years and this was the first time anything like this had happened.
The Pagans converged on the men, their broken bodies lying scattered about. Several of the men were moving and Saul walked up to one and kicked him over with his foot. The man screamed in agony as he rolled over onto his broken leg.
“Who are you? Who do you work for?” Saul demanded.
“Fuck you,” the man snarled.
Saul pointed his gun at the man and shot him in the head. He looked around and saw another man trying to get to his feet, bleeding from a gunshot wound in the side. Saul walked up to him.
“Don’t kill me,” the man begged as Saul put his pistol to the man’s head.
“Who do you work for?”
“He’ll kill me! I have a wife and baby girl!”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me.”
“Don’t tell him shit!” a man screamed, dragging himself to a bike with both legs bent at unnatural angles.
“Kill him,” Saul ordered. Dallas turned and walked up to the man then shot him in the back of the head. “Now, who do you work for?”
“Saw! Saul Mendel!”
“He wants to take over your business and sell the guns directly to Abana!”
“Are you a Killer?”
SAUL: The Pagans MC Page 15
