And one by one, they smiled and nodded in agreement.
“You have our word, Mr. Savage.”
The group walked toward the door, and Margaret could have left well enough alone. But she hated John Savage as much as anyone. And she couldn’t help but rub salt into his wound.
“By the way, Mr. Savage, we don’t have to tell our friends and neighbors. Red Poston told the whole damn town yesterday.”
She stopped, turned, and looked him directly in the eyes.
“Thanks for the silver.”
Savage walked them to the door and onto the covered walkway in front of the bank. Several more of the townsfolk were walking down the street, in his direction.
He suddenly grew pale and his knees went weak.
-55-
It was just after ten p.m. when Savage heard a familiar knock on his door.
He lifted the door’s curtain just enough to see Duncan’s silhouette against the full moon in the background.
As though the day hadn’t been bad enough. Now, on top of everything else, he had to deal with Duncan too?
Savage stepped to one side and let the man enter, waving him over to his desk.
He’d contracted with both of them- Duncan and Gomez- to be his contract killers and get rid of his Red Poston problem.
And to be sure, Duncan was the more personable of the pair. Gomez was always moody and sullen, and at times even a bit scary.
But Gomez could at least put together a coherent sentence and present an original thought occasionally.
Duncan was dumber than a rock.
“Where’s Gomez? He usually comes.”
“He’ll be along. He’s scoping out the house where your red-headed woman lives.”
“So, you guys figured out you screwed up. That you let her slip right past you.”
Duncan looked sheepishly at his boots.
“Yes, sir.”
There was another knock at his door. Savage left Duncan pondering the fate of his future employment and went to answer it.
“Who is it?”
“Gomez.”
Good. At least he wouldn’t feel like he was talking to a wall.
Gomez took another seat across from Savage’s desk.
Savage wasted no time in getting to the point.
“Just what in thunder happened? I’m supposed to be pissing on her corpse by now. Instead, she’s not only still walking around, she’s getting the whole town riled up against me. You two were supposed to ambush her as she came into town. Just how hard can that be?”
Gomez wasn’t moved.
“Well, now, it shouldn’t have been hard at all.
“Of course, when you give us a description of a woman traveling by day, alone on a brown Morgan, and she comes into town riding on a wagon with two other people and no Morgan in sight, wearing completely different clothing, that makes it a might more difficult, now don’t it? Especially when they come into town at night, from a completely different direction than you told us.”
Savage couldn’t argue the point. He’d screwed up as badly as his henchmen.
“How did you find out all that?”
“I came into town yesterday morning to buy a bottle of booze and stumbled across that naked guy who wanders the streets on the far side of town. He was all excited about having his good friend Red back. Turns out he was the first one they saw when they got into town. I reckon the people who were with her saw a might more of him than they’d expected to.”
“Who, exactly, was with her?”
“Some old woman and a young cowboy. The naked guy couldn’t remember their names.”
“I met the cowboy. He’s not a resident. She must have picked them up along the way. You said they were in a wagon?”
“Yes. He said there was a mattress in the back, the woman was riding on it. Red was driving the wagon, the cowboy was riding point.”
Savage rubbed his chin, as he tended to do when he was deep in thought.
“So… what are our options?”
“We can still shoot her, from a distance, when she comes out of her house. Of course, there’s more risk now. There’s a lawman around now. A real one,” Gomez added disdainfully.
Savage ignored the slight.
“I know. I met him too. He’s a Texas Ranger, snooping around town and asking a lot of questions. If we kill her now, he’ll pin it on us for sure.”
“Well, we can kill him too. But that’ll cost you another hundred grand.”
“What? That’s outrageous!”
“Killing a lawman is always more expensive. You know that.”
“No. I don’t know if Ranger Headquarters in Austin knows he’s here. If they know, and if he disappears from the face of the earth, they’ll send ten Rangers next time.”
“Well, make up your mind. We’re only gonna be in town a few more days. After we leave, you’ll have to kill her yourself.”
“What? We had a deal. You can’t leave me high and dry!”
Gomez stood from his chair and leaned over the desk until his face was mere inches from Savage’s.
Savage froze in fear as Gomez growled his next words, while showering the banker’s face with drops of spittle.
“First of all, you son of a bitch, I don’t like you. I never have. So you’d best not give me reason to start slapping you around. You wouldn’t like it.
“Secondly, you weren’t straight with us from the beginning. You gave us a description that wasn’t even close. You told us she’d be riding alone by day. You had us cooling our heels out there on that hot highway for damn near two weeks for nothing.
“Thirdly, we’re not leaving you high and dry. I offered to shoot her for you. You declined. I even offered to shoot the Ranger for you. You declined that as well.
“If anybody has the right to feel indignant, it’s us. We’ve wasted enough time in this one traffic light town of yours.
“I’ll give you until the end of the day tomorrow to change your mind about shooting the girl and the Ranger. We’ll be back tomorrow night at the same time to either get the go-ahead or say goodbye.
“And to tell you the truth, Savage, I’m pretty tired of you. I’d almost rather just pass up the hit money and get out of your damn town, so we can start our treasure hunt.”
Savage was browbeaten, and more than a bit confused.
“Treasure hunt? What in hell are you talking about?”
The anger suddenly left the hit man’s face. He stood up again, then began to gloat.
“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know. You know that encrypted note I showed you the other day? I solved the puzzle. We know where those two nomads stashed their gold. Now it’s just a matter of going out and getting it.”
-56-
Gomez knew by the look on Savage’s face he didn’t believe him.
Or maybe Gomez was just the kind of man who had to show those who weren’t as smart just how superior he was.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny notepad he’d taken off the dead nomad.
He opened it up to the same page he’d showed Savage a few days before.
20A
141
90
46
17
Savage said, “So? I’ve seen this before. What does it mean?
Gomez wasn’t going to fill in the details so readily. He wanted it to sink in that he was the only one of the three smart enough to break the code and solve the puzzle.
“Here,” he said. Let me show you the page after this one.”
He flipped the page and handed it back to Savage.
The numbers were just as cryptic.
20M
107
91
57
31
“Okay,” Savage admitted. You got me. I don’t have a clue what it means. I’ll grant you that you’re smarter than me, okay? Now just what in the hell does it mean?”
“I used to be an over the road trucker, many years ago. I drove the southern c
orridor, from Georgia to California, along the I-10, the I-20 and the I-40 interstates.”
“Okay…”
“The first page of the code is marked with the heading 20G. Interstate 20 in Georgia. The next one, the one I showed you originally, is marked 20A. Interstate 20 in Alabama. Then 20M. Mississippi. Followed by 20L. Louisiana. Finally, 20T. Texas. Then the 20s ran out, replaced by 281T. Texas Highway 281.”
“I still don’t get it,” Duncan said. “What does it all mean?”
“They came all the way from Georgia, headed west along Interstate 20, then switched to Highway 281. Along the way they collected all the gold, silver and jewelry from the courier trucks which moved the valuables from one place to another. They were mostly untouched because the majority of the scavengers were looking for food and water, not precious metals.”
“So what do all the other numbers mean?”
“My guess is that they’re mile markers. The mile markers along the side of the interstates reset as you enter each new state. And as you travel west, they go down.
“Look back at the 20M page. Highway 20 in Mississippi. They buried their treasure at or near mile marker 107. Another batch at mile marker 91. Another batch near mile marker 57, and another at mile marker 31.”
“But why would they bury it? Why not carry it with them?”
“They were pretending to be nomads. Living off the trucks on the highway just like a lot of other people. But they couldn’t make it obvious they were lugging gold and silver. Gold and silver, as you know, is very heavy. Especially in bullion or coin state. If anyone saw them dragging a very heavy backpack, they might want to find out what was in it. Likewise if they rode on horseback with pack horses in tow, or drove a heavy wagon.”
Finally, Savage was getting it.
“So, they were burying it as they went, and kept a log where they put it so they could go back and get it at a later time.”
Duncan, bless his dumb heart, was still confused.
“Wouldn’t it be damaged if they buried it?”
“No, stupid. Gold and silver will last for thousands of years. Hell, longer than that even.”
Savage asked, “But how do you find it? I mean, if all you have is a mile marker, you’re still shooting in the dark. Grass grows over disturbed ground. You don’t know which direction it’s buried, or how far. You might search forever and never find it.”
“Their last entry is 281T, mile marker 211. That’s up the road about eleven miles or so. It’s less than a day’s ride. And I’m guessing it hasn’t been more than a week or ten days since they buried their loot. The grass hasn’t had time to grow over it yet.
“It should be easy to find. And they didn’t put distances in their code. That to me means they’re consistent.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning when we find the last batch they buried we’ll just pace off the number of steps from the mile marker and note the distance. If we find the first batch one hundred paces due east of the mile sign, then you can damn sure bet the rest of them will be buried in the same manner.”
Savage was deep in thought. He wanted to ask the pair to cut him in, but knew better. They all hated each other. And Savage had absolutely nothing to offer them, other than possible hit fees if he changed his mind about killing Red and the Ranger.
He didn’t want to humiliate himself by asking for a cut, only to give Gomez the opportunity to laugh in his face.
“I’ll tell you what,” he finally said. “I’ll pass on your offer to kill the girl and the lawman. But I want you to leave on good terms. If you ever come back through here I might just want to sell you some real estate. In the spirit of leaving on good terms, I want to pay you for your waiting fees for the last three days.”
That was what Gomez came for, actually, but he’d expected to have to argue to get it. It was nice that Savage was suddenly being agreeable.
“I’ve got a bag of gold shavings in the other room. I’ll be right back.”
-57-
In the end, Gomez turned out to be just as stupid as Duncan. Perhaps more so, because as the recognized leader of the pair, Gomez should have considered all the possibilities.
The truth was, Gomez considered Savage nothing more than a sniveling little worm. A coward. A man who’d never pick a fight with two men who were younger and stronger and who had much more experience with weapons.
It was a fatal mistake on Gomez’ part.
And he realized it a bit too late, when there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Savage left the room, only to return thirty seconds later not with a bag of gold. But with a 9mm Ruger. He stood in the doorway and adopted a two handed shooters stance, firing shot after shot until he was out of bullets.
He was smart enough to take out the greater threat, Gomez, first.
Gomez turned toward Savage with a surprised look on his face when the first shot struck him in the shoulder. He obviously couldn’t believe it. Had the fat little man finally found the guts to fight someone on their own terms?
Apparently so. And apparently the element of surprise had given him the upper hand.
The second shot nicked the hit man’s heart. He went down trying to pull his own handgun out of his holster.
Duncan froze, just long enough to seal his own fate.
Savage’s third shot, a lucky one by any account, struck Duncan square in the forehead.
It was over that fast.
Duncan went down and was perfectly still, his blood oozing from a gaping wound in the back of his head onto the wooden floorboards.
Bits of skull and brain matter covered most of a Queen Anne chair directly behind him.
Gomez’ almost lifeless body twitched a bit as his life’s blood spurted from his chest with every one of his heart’s beats.
And with every beat the blood gushed slower and slower as the heart inched toward death.
He could have stopped there.
But it was a cowardly act he’d just performed, and there was no reason he wouldn’t perform another.
In his panicked and twisted mind, Gomez could rise up again. Take the gun away from him. Hold him down and place it against Savage’s temple and send him to hell.
Savage wasn’t about to let that happen.
In a classic case of overkill, he stood over the bodies and fired bullet after bullet into them.
The late hour was his friend. Most people in Blanco went to bed shortly after sundown now, since there was little else to do.
Most of the town was fast asleep.
He had a few minutes before anyone determined where the gunshots had come from, and connected them with Savage’s bank.
He placed the empty Ruger on his desk and scurried to the bank’s doors to make sure they were locked.
Then he hurried back. To take his victims’ guns from their holsters and to place them near the bodies.
Not too close.
About as far as he figured they’d fly if Duncan and Gomez had them out and at the ready when they were struck down.
He picked up the tiny notepad where it rested halfway across the room, and slipped it into his back pocket.
Gomez and Duncan didn’t deserve the buried treasure.
He did.
He realized for the first time his hands were shaking. He was sweating heavily.
He’d paid to have men killed, sure. He was not a pure man by any means.
But this was the first time anyone had died directly by his hand.
And it felt… good.
He surveyed the room one last time, to make sure everything looked plausible.
Then he opened the bank’s doors and walked out into the cool night air.
It felt good against his clammy skin.
He sat on the steps in front of the bank and pretended to be in shock.
It didn’t take an awful lot of effort.
The first of the town’s citizens came running down the street a full minute later.
“Savage! Savage
, is that you?”
The banker lifted his face so the moonlight caught it.
“Did you hear the gunshots, Savage? Do you know where they came from?”
“They came from my bank. It was a robbery attempt. I shot them both dead. Go get Judge Moore, will you?”
Thank you for reading Book 4 of the Red series.
Here’s a preview of Book 5 of the series, called
NO HELP FROM AUSTIN
The sun was half an hour from setting as storm clouds began rolling into the area.
Red had been in a very foul mood all day long, and didn’t realize why until she sat on the porch swing of Savage’s house and closed her eyes.
And let her mind wander.
She thought of her husband Russell, as she often did. And she thought of the time he brought her eight dozen daisies.
The daisies were easy to figure out. It was her favorite flower.
The number of them, though, was a puzzle.
“Why eight dozen?” she’d asked.
“One daisy for every year we’ll be together,” was his response.
Then he’d proposed.
Red’s eyes came open, and it suddenly dawned on her. She now knew why she was in such a foul mood.
She burst back into Savage’s house and confronted him, her face just inches from his own.
“Today is my anniversary,” she told the quivering bowl of jelly before her.
“Russell and I were married six years ago today.”
She could well have left it at that and walked away from him, but she rather enjoyed watching him squirm.
“Perhaps,” she continued, “this would be a fitting day for you to die.”
A bead of sweat rolled from Savage’s expansive forehead and down his cheek. Red thought that rather odd, for the room was relatively cool.
“Are you nervous, Mr. Savage?”
“Um… no. Not at all. I’m just… isn’t it hot in here?”
“Only for you.”
Jacob busied himself walking around the first floor of the house, closing the drapes. He suspected that Savage didn’t have any friends, as he disliked the man the moment he laid eyes upon him.
Return to Blanco (Red Book 4) Page 18
