by PAUL BENNETT
‘What about these guys,’ he said, looking around the group. ‘What’s to stop them killing me?’
‘You have my word of honour. Hell, we could just shoot you here and now if we wanted. No, this has to be done properly or there will be no satisfaction in it.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘In the desert, a few miles west from here, is a deserted shack. We meet there. I’ll bring the heroin. Two men go out, one man comes back. Simple as that.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow at midday. High noon. Be there.’
‘You don’t know what you’re up against,’ he said. ‘I’ve been the best shot for the DEA for the last five years. Won cups for it too. Still, if that’s the way you want it, I agree. Until then, Johnny Silver. Don’t be late. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me feeding heroin into the supply chain.’
He turned and walked away, laughing to himself and shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Arrogant sonovabitch,’ said Red. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘That arrogance will be his downfall,’ I said. ‘Leastways that’s what I hope.’
‘Sorry to look on the black side,’ said Bull, ‘but if he kills you, can I beat him up a little before I shoot him?’
‘I would expect you to uphold the honour of our band of brothers.’
‘So that’s a yes then?’ Bull said.
‘As painfully as possible,’ I said.
‘Shall we see if there’s any of that pig left?’ said Stan. ‘Got to stoke up before the morning.’
‘Lead the way, Stan. I suspect we may be the only people with an appetite for spit-roasted pork at the moment.’
‘They’re probably thinking they could have roasted it over a burning helicopter if they’d known about it.’
‘Plexiglas doesn’t have quite the same aroma as some sage leaves and garlic,’ I said.
‘You always have to be picky,’ said Bull. ‘But we love you just the way you are. And we better make the most of it.’
‘Thanks for that vote of confidence,’ I said.
‘If you get cold feet,’ said Pieter, ‘we could just shoot him for you now. We’d make it painless, if that was what you were worried about.’
‘Strangely, painless wasn’t at the top of my worry list at the moment, but I appreciate the thought.’
‘Hell,’ said Bull, ‘let him get on with it. He knows what he’s doing.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘Well, most of the time,’ Bull added.
Chapter Twenty-two
We got there an hour early and the heat was already shimmering off the desert. I had on a lightweight T-shirt outside my jeans with a shoulder holster carrying the Browning. The vehicle had the engine running and the air conditioning was working full blast so I stayed inside the vehicle cool and calm . . . almost.
‘Remind me,’ said Bull, ‘why the five of us just don’t pump him full of lead?’
‘Because it would be without honour and a man without honour is someone who can’t look himself in the eye in the mirror for the rest of his life.’
‘Worth thinking about though,’ said Bull.
‘It started with me and him, and it has to finish that way.’
‘Reckoned that was what you’d say,’ said Bull, ‘but I thought it was worth a try.’
Toomey’s car came into view and he drove past us and parked by the shack. My phone rang.
‘Do you want to start now,’ Toomey said.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘It has to be high noon.’
‘John Wayne fan, huh?’
‘Actually it was Gary Cooper, but a man could have worse role models than either of them. We could get out and stretch our legs now if you like. I promise I won’t shoot.’
‘I need to see the drugs,’ he said. ‘Can’t have you reneging on a bargain.’
I walked to the back of Stan’s car and opened the boot. I took out two of the bags of heroin and waved them in the air. ‘Satisfied?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Can’t blame me for checking out your part of the deal, although, from what I know about you from the file, you’re a straight-up kind of guy. Still have to kill you though. Nothing personal you understand.’
‘Very personal from my point of view. You blackmailed me into doing your dirty work. It was bad when you said you were DEA. Made it kind of legitimate. But then you turned out to be freelancing. Sneaky.’
He took his jacket off, revealing a shoulder holster similar to mine. ‘What you packing?’ he asked.
‘Browning,’ I said.
‘Glock’s better,’ he said. ‘More sensitive on the trigger. Makes me a millisecond faster, and in our line of work that’s a big advantage.’
My four friends were walking up and down and looking at their watches. I could feel their patience wearing thinner with each passing minute. I reckoned keeping Toomey waiting would make him jumpy. Jumpy equals possible miss of target, that being, namely, me. Toomey took out a water bottle and downed the contents. He threw the bottle in the air and put three shots into it before it reached the ground.
‘Normally manage four,’ he said. ‘Must need the practice. Thanks for the opportunity.’
Bull reached into the car and brought out three water bottles. He looked at me and I nodded. He threw the three bottles high into the air. I put three bullets into each of them and looked Toomey in the eye. ‘Normally manage four,’ I said. ‘Must be the heat and the angle of the sun.’
I took out the clip from the Browning and put in a fully loaded one in its place, although I hoped not to need more than one bullet. I checked my watch. Near as damn it noon. I walked towards Toomey.
‘Here’s what happens,’ I said as we got closer to each other. ‘We meet and walk ten paces back. Put our guns on the floor. Take another ten steps back and Bull calls it. We run to the guns and fire. Last man standing is the winner.’
‘If you say so,’ he said, ‘although I don’t see why we don’t just shoot now.’
‘Because this is a duel and a duel is an honourable battle and has to conform to rules of honour.’
‘Then let’s do it,’ he said.
We walked towards each other and met. ‘Sure you’ve got this straight?’ I asked.
‘I know exactly what to do,’ he said.
‘Are you ready, Bull?’ I shouted.
‘Ready to go,’ he replied.
Still facing each other, we walked backwards ten paces. I placed the Browning on the sand and started to walk back the other ten paces.
‘Sucker,’ said Toomey, picking up his gun and waving it at me. ‘You know your trouble, Silver? You’re too trusting.’
I placed my hands on my hips and looked him in the eye.
‘Sucker,’ I echoed, pulling out the Magnum from the back of my waistband. I put three shots into his head: one in the middle of his eyes and two in the mouth so that they couldn’t identify him from dental records. The force of the bullets knocked him back a pace before he fell to the ground.
‘OK. Action, guys. Load the heroin in the boot of his car.’
I went over to Toomey’s body and stripped him of any form of identification and personal effects — watch, wallet and so on. They would identify him eventually, but it bought us a little time. I dragged him over to his car and sat him in the front seat. I took the keys from the ignition and unlocked the petrol cap. Stan came across with Rosa’s old dress that he had cut into one long strip earlier. He twisted the strip into a kind of rope and pushed most of it into the petrol tank: what he was left with he trailed down and along the ground. Satisfied, he gave it a minute or so to soak sufficiently and took out a box of matches.
‘Better get back guys,’ he said. ‘Heroin all in?’
‘We’re ready to go,’ I said.
Stan lit the match and touched the flame to the end of the strip of dress. As the flame spread along and upward, he raced back to the safety of our car where we were all standing expectant. The result was spec
tacular. The petrol tank caught fire and exploded. A yellow mushroom cloud shot into the air and gave a startling contrast to the clear blue desert sky. That took care of all the heroin and Toomey’s body at the same time. I doubted that anybody would be able to work out why it had happened and that counted in our favour, too. He was freelancing, so there would be no link to follow to us. It couldn’t have worked out better.
‘Remind me of why we’re using one of Rosa’s dresses,’ Red asked.
‘Because Johnny wants to buy her some dresses as a leaving present and he was scared that she would refuse them because it seemed like charity. This way he can buy three dresses and make out he couldn’t decide which one was nicest as a replacement, so he got all three.’
‘Stan,’ I said, ‘are you happy to do the shopping?’
‘No problem.’
‘Let’s go then, guys. There’s packing to be done and goodbyes to say.’
We climbed in the car and felt the cool breeze from the air conditioning. There was a chorus of contented sighs.
‘How did you know he would cheat?’ Pieter asked.
‘Because he would want to gloat. He’d cheat and then take his time to shoot me. That gave me the edge. He was too predictable, playing the big DEA man to our lowly status. There never really was much danger.’
‘Never really much danger means there’s still some,’ Bull said. ‘And that can be fatal. You’re a lucky sonovabitch, Johnny Silver.’
‘Sometimes you have to ride your luck. Today was one of those times.’
‘Then I hope the next time will be a long time coming,’ said Bull.
‘Amen to that,’ said Pieter.
‘Wagons roll,’ said Red.
And so we said goodbye to the desert and drove back to civilisation. Or as near to it as we ever get.
Chapter Twenty-three
Stan and I went shopping. We drove to a small town about twenty miles away on the road to Sonora. It had three-storey houses set in narrow streets which would provide shade from the sun at anything other than noon. It gave the town a sombre tone which would have depressed me if I had had to live there. Still, the place had everything we needed, including a choice of bars around the town square. Stan and I got everything on our list and retreated to a bar with a green parrot in a cage outside. The parrot squawked from time to time, giving us an authentic feel of rural Mexico, or a gimmick, depending on how you viewed things. Must’ve been the latter or we could have been sitting at one of the other bars.
‘Are you coming back to Red’s ranch on the way back or going straight home from the airport?’ I asked Stan.
‘It will be a squeeze, but I will drop off the car and travel back with you. I will fly from Texas the day after we get to the ranch. Be nice to spend time with you guys without killing being the first thing on my To Do list.’
I liked to hear Stan speak. The absence of contractions of someone who didn’t have English as a native language made me think of Anna. It wouldn’t be long now until we were together again. I vowed that this would be the last time I would be away from her. No more soldiering from now on.
‘It worked out well in the end,’ Stan said, bringing me out of my reverie. ‘Even made twenty-five thousand dollars along the way. Luck was on our side.’
‘Luck and planning,’ I corrected.
‘Luck and planning and shooting fast and straight,’ he added.
‘Luck and planning and shooting fast and straight and working as the best goddamn team there is.’
‘You got it,’ he said. The parrot squawked.
‘Maybe, Johnny,’ he said, ‘we should take less risks next time.’
‘There will be no next time,’ I said.
‘Until the next time,’ he said. ‘Fate has a way of dealing the cards so we do his bidding and not what we want.’
‘Deep stuff,’ I said. ‘Only time will tell, but I’ll resist the call to adventure with every beat of my heart. I’ll be a father soon and that will bring big responsibilities. Have to stay at home and devote myself to Anna and the twins.’
‘Have it your way,’ he said. ‘If I was a betting man, I’d lay a few dollars that at some time in the future we’ll be sitting in some foreign land sipping beers, plotting our next move.’
I finished my beer. I didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Don’t we human beings have free will? Can’t we resist fate, defy him and go our merry way?
‘Let’s get back,’ I said. ‘Time for a celebratory lunch and then head for home.’
I put a five-dollar bill on the table and we left before I was forced anymore to think about a future I didn’t want to happen.
* * *
Rosa cooked the steaks perfectly. We’d bought an extra one and Chico joined us for lunch. We all reckoned he could miss an hour or so of school for our celebration of a job well done.
‘Before you go,’ I said to Rosa, ‘we have a small gift for you. It’s a little thank you for giving us your dress.’
As had been guessed by my friends, I handed her a bag containing three new dresses in different colours and styles.
‘But I cannot take this,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m not wearing them,’ said Pieter. ‘It would ruin my image. Take them in the spirit they’re given.’
‘And we owe you some money for your work here with us.’ I handed her an envelope containing a thousand dollars. She looked inside.
‘But I cannot take this,’ she echoed.
‘Don’t let us get in a time loop,’ said Pieter. ‘We’re grateful for what you’ve done for us.’
‘But you saved me in my hour of need. And now this. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Then don’t bother about it,’ I said. ‘Can you pass me the other parcel, Stan?’ He handed it over to me.
‘We mustn’t forget Chico, must we? This is for you.’
I handed him the parcel and watched as he took the present from the bag. His eyes lit up like beacons in the night.
‘Momma!’ he cried. ‘It’s a phone! I can take videos now and show them to all my friends.’
‘It’s yours on the condition you send me regular videos on how you’re doing. The bills come to me, so don’t worry about that. Phone me at least every week and tell me what you have learnt at school. School is very important. You must attend every day and do what Senora Sanchez tells you to do.’
He came round the table and hugged me. There were tears in his eyes. ‘I love you, Senor Silver,’ he said. ‘Will you come back and see us?’
‘At least once a year,’ I said. ‘I promise. Come now, back to afternoon school. I don’t want to get you in trouble.’
‘I could always tell Senora Sanchez I was sick,’ he said.
‘Chico!’ I said.
‘I’m going,’ he said, clutching his phone. ‘Goodbye senores, and thank you for everything. Via con dios.’
‘Amen,’ said Red, rubbing at his eyes. Like me, he had a bit of dirt in them.
* * *
Padre Patrick was kneeling before the altar with his back to me. I walked up and knelt beside him. ‘So you’re not a heathen after all,’ he said. ‘Or maybe that is a road I shouldn’t be going down, considering my actions or failures to act recently.’
‘Don’t give yourself a hard time,’ I said. ‘None of us are perfect and that includes you. I reckon God smiles down on us as we try to weave our way through a journey littered with pitfalls.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ he said.
‘Hang on a minute,’ I said. ‘I’m the one who should be hoping. You’re supposed to be the one with faith.’
‘I think I lost faith for a while, but you were the one to help me find it again.’
I stood up and lent him my arm. His knees creaked as he rose up. Occupational hazard?
I gave him the envelope. ‘Reckon you need a new statue,’ I said. ‘This should cover it.’
He looked inside.
‘I can’t take this,’ he said.
‘Don’t you start,’ I said. ‘I’ve had enough of that already today.’
‘Thank you, my son,’ he said.
‘Today you can call me my son,’ I said. ‘We start afresh from now.’ He nodded.
‘I’ll be back in a few months,’ I said. ‘Just to see how life is going on in this new world that the village finds itself in. I want to see this church packed with people. Can you do that for me?’
‘I’ll give it my best shot, if you pardon the pun.’ I took out the other envelope from my pocket.
‘Give this to Senora Sanchez,’ I said. ‘It’s for some new books in English. When I return I want all the kids to welcome me in my tongue and tell me what great teachers you both have been.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘What for?’
‘I had you all wrong, didn’t I? I thought you would bring destruction to the village. That you would bring reality to the world upon which I had closed my eyes in order to hide a painful truth. Instead, you have brought renewed life. How can I ever thank you?’
‘Pray for me,’ I said, ‘and for my family. I will need all the help I can get in an unknown future.’
‘It shall be done,’ he said. ‘Even though you’re a heathen-killing bastard.’ I took a step backwards from his vitriol.
‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘a heathen-killing bastard is exactly what the world needs to put it to rights. May God go with you.’
* * *
I was packing when Paco came calling. He looked like he still hadn’t quite got rid of the hangover we’d helped to give him.
‘Quite a show you put on,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a legend in this village for years to come. The man who brought down a helicopter. They’ll probably write a song about you and sing it each year at the fiesta.
‘And what about you?’ I said. ‘Things haven’t gone exactly as planned.’
‘I am persona non grata,’ he said. ‘Do you know what that means?’
I nodded. ‘My Latin is better than my Spanish,’ I said.
‘Miguel’s father is not pleased with my performance. Thinks I should have done more to guide the kid. To make sure he keeps up the family’s tradition.’
