Drawing Dead (43 page)

“Nobody gonna bother
that
car. And we don't even think about chasing it. You got
white
men on your payroll now? Look, whatever it's all about, not our business, okay? We did what the man said to do, and—”

Ace tapped a button and the connection went dead. He tapped another button; the hissing sound told him it would stay that way.

“FIRE-TEAM
positions,” Cross snapped over his shoulder, as the Shark Car rolled past the barricaded entrance to the Badlands and swirled to a full stop.

“No spike, diamond. Buddha and Tiger triangle behind me. Tracker holds drag.”

Cross headed for what he knew would be an opening in the tangle of barbed wire, chain link, rusting pieces of girders, and sharpened-edge rebar. He was first through, followed by Tiger to his right and Buddha to his left. Tracker was already roosting on top of the de-wheeled semi, his night scope scanning. Buddha's pistol was out, but, like Tiger's dagger, it was held loosely at his side.

“How bad is it?” Condor's voice, most of the teenage reediness gone; he was stepping into his new role.

“We don't know,” Cross said. “There's only one hostile still in the field, but we don't know what
she
knows. They knew where I lived—where I used to live—so they could have been mapping this place, too.”

“She?”
Condor said. A quick glance at Tiger instantly told him he was asking a stupid question.

“Rhino and Princess are cyber-tracking,” Cross said. “Ace is working another field. If she hits this place, it won't be the kind of assault you can stop with firepower. So, until this is over, you know what to do.”

“Why didn't you just—?”

“I'm not saying this again,” the unremarkable-looking man said, no tonal change in his voice. “We don't know what she knows. Remember when that…other stuff was going on, a while back? The G was collecting info on us, on all of us, before they made their move. None of that matters, not now. We don't know what info she may have been trusted with. So we're not using the airwaves—no phones, you got that?—not until this is over. She won't be short of money, so, if she knows this place, she could pay some professionals to—”

“Not in Chicago, she couldn't. Nobody comes in here, not without you flashing us the green light.”

“Condor, she wouldn't be paying locals. Which is why we're pretty sure we have some time. The way we came, it's the only way an assault force could come without you spotting them. That's why Tracker's on top of the truck.

“But this is an all-in game now. So you're going to ground. You
lead
them down to that tunnel, and make sure they keep moving until they get to the first intersection. Just as if I told you there was going to be a flight of drones dropping heavyweight bang-stuff all over, understand? They wouldn't need daylight to do that.”

“Why can't we all go to—?”

“Red 71's closed. So is the— So are a bunch of other places. You take your people where I said—not beyond that point. You can last an easy three, four weeks down there, you have to. If nothing lights up on the wall by then, send
one
of your people out to look around. If it looks okay to him—if he comes back and
tells
you that—it's safe. For
you,
it's safe, I'm saying. You might not see any of us again. But it'll be over. You got that?”

“Can't I—?”

“No. You have to be the
boss
now, Condor. You're responsible for your whole crew, so you have to be
sure.
Test is: If you can't be counted
on,
you can't be counted
in.
If you have to keep checking behind you, then you can't move fast enough.”

“Sure. Like you always say. But this—”

“This is a new game, kid. It may last a couple of days; it may be over for us…but
not
for your crew. There's a half-million in cash down there. All in used twenties, fifties, and hundreds. Not funny money—real thing, no risk using it.

“Okay, when you're ready, have one of your people lead all the others down the left branch. Tell 'em something
may
be coming. That happens, you want to surprise them. Take this: it's one of Buddha's own pieces, better than perfect. A .357 mag. It'll buck on you, so be careful if you use the heaviest stuff. Four fifty-round tins—two are .38s, two of that heavy stuff….This piece, it'll take either kind.”

“I don't need no—”

“Yeah, you do,” Cross said, the words coming out like rusted-from-exposure steel. “Not to shoot anyone—but to make sure everyone in your crew knows you
can.

“Now, listen: When you're alone, use the keypad. Tap each key the number of times that's
on
the key, understand? Tap the ‘7' key seven times, like that. Then step back, quick. A big chunk of rock will roll out. The money's in knapsacks. Just use what you need. But if you have to go on the move, remember you'll need a few people to carry it all out. After that, you do what you have to do. Your people, they'll follow you. Anyone you're not
sure
of, you don't take them into the tunnel. If it turns out you made a mistake, you
leave
your mistakes there, understand?

“Remember, you never have to move the crew—
your
crew—out of this territory. It's yours for as long as you can hold it. Just like we did. If we're not around when you check, if you don't hear from any of us, doesn't mean we're gone for good. But
never
look for us—you'll run into some bad people that way. Same rules: they won't come here; you don't go there.”

“I'll handle it.”

“I know,” Cross said.

Ten minutes later, there was no trace of the Cross crew anywhere in the Badlands.

TIGER STRUTTED
spectacularly into the suite of rooms set up in the back of Orchid Blue.

The rooms were windowless; air exchangers hummed too quietly for anyone to hear from the outside. The brick façade was backed by foam-filled cinder block.

“That's a lot of boys for this place,” the brunette at the entranceway said, half-smiling with her mouth and half-questioning with her eyes.

“My entourage,” Tiger said. “I thought I'd get them all familiar with my place. You know, just in case.”

The brunette
didn't
know, but the sight of Rhino and Princess was enough to make her lose any interest. She caught Sweetie's eye, heard the faintest of warning growls, and came to the only decision possible. “I'll just leave you all alone,” she said, as she got to her feet and walked out.

“Don't even,” Tiger warned Cross. “Yes, girls gossip. Tempo, she won't say a word. She's the bookkeeper. Sometimes I keep her back here. You follow me?”

Cross nodded. Rhino took that for his cue and immediately began plugging in the hundred pounds of equipment Princess was handing over to him, piece by piece.

THREE HOURS
later, Cross took the third drag of his cigarette and ground it out in a heavy stoneware bowl.

“We're not gonna find her,” he said. “Not this way. And it's only her that's left. Percy is one bad bulldog, but he's no bloodhound. Probably ask his bosses where to look—good damn luck with
that.
Ace has got his finger on the pulse and he's gonna stay put…but no way she's going back into the Wild West. Buddha's slow-rolling, and we can call him in if there's something for him to do—that's why Tracker's riding along.

“Patience is a good weapon; we all know that. But, this time, we can't wait. If Wanda's got stuff ready to launch, it could hit anywhere. Wouldn't get all of us, no matter what…but body counts aren't the way to locate the enemy, not in
this
jungle.”

“I'm not giving up,” Rhino squeaked. “Like you always say, Cross:
being
smart doesn't mean you're going to
act
smart.”