Mr Majestyk (1974) (17 page)

Looking down the slope he said, "Here come a couple of friends of ours."

They watched the two cars pass below them on the winding road.

"Now what, Vincent?"

"Now we give them a kick in the ass," Majestyk said.

Renda's three men in the second car, following the Olds, were in genera l a greement that riding around in the mountains was a bunch of shit. That Frank Renda ought to take care of his own hit, if he wanted the guy so bad. That mayb e t hey should stop on the way back--if they ever got out of this fucking place--an d s ee about the two guys who went over the side. Though they must be dead; nobod y h ad yelled for help. They were looking out the windows, up and down the slopes , but if the guy wasn't still on the road they knew they weren't going to fin d h im. How could they get to him?

The one in the back seat said, "There shouldn't be nothing to it. Wait for th e r ight time you can set the fucking guy on fire, do it any way you want. Thi s h urry-up shit doesn't make any sense."

"You know what the trouble is?" the driver said. "The guy, the farmer, h e d oesn't know what he's doing. He shouldn't even still be around."

"That's it," the one in the back seat said. "If he knew anything he'd kno w e nough not to be here. It's like some clown never been in the ring before. He'
s s o clumsy, does so many wrong things, you can't hit the son of a bitch."

"Fighting a southpaw," the driver said. "You ever fight a southpaw?"

"You get used to that," the one in the back seat said. "I'm talking about a c lown. Hayseed, doesn't even own a cup."

"So you know where to hit him," the driver said.

"Shit, try and get to the guy."

Talking about nothing, passing the time. The one in the back seat looked out th e s ide window at the dun-colored slopes and rock formations. They were gettin g p retty high, moving along a hogback, the spine of a slope. He half turned t o l ook out the back window and said, "Jesus!" loud enough to bring the driver'
s e yes to the rearview mirror and the man next to him around on the seat.

The high front end of Majestyk's pickup was on top of them, headlights an d y ellow sheetmetal framed in the back window, the guy behind the wheel lookin g r ight at them, saying something, and the girl next to him ducking down.

Majestyk pressed down on the gas, caught up and drove the high bumper into th e c ar's rear deck. He saw the car beginning to pull away, pressed the gas peda l a ll the way to the floor and caught the rear end again, stayed with it thi s t ime, fighting the wheel to keep the car solidly in front of him, ramming it , bulldozing it down the narrow grade, hitting a shoulder and raising dust , hanging with it, seeing sky above the car and knowing what was coming, foo t p ressed hard on the gas for another five seconds before he raised it and mashe d i t down on the brake pedal.

The car almost made the turn. It skidded sideways, power-sliding, hit th e s houlder, and went through the guardrail turned onced in the air and exploded i n f lames five hundred feet below.

Majestyk was through the turn, saw the Olds 98 on the road three switchback s b elow him, came to an abrupt stop, turned around, and headed back the way the y h ad come, aware of the smoke now billowing up out of the canyon. He was sure Renda heard the explosion and would be coming back. So he'd go up into the pine s a gain and work out the next step.

In the quiet of the cab he heard Nancy say, "I hope you never get mad at me , Vincent."

The Olds 98 came to a stop in the shadow of a high, seamed outcropping of rock.

The shadow covered the road that continued in dimness, reaching a wall of roc k a nd brush before bearing in a sharp curve to the right.

Lundy got the map out of the glove box and spread it open over the steerin g w heel. It was quiet in the car, except for the sound of Lundy straightening th e m ap, smoothing the folds.

Renda stared straight ahead, through the windshield. We haven't been out here a n h our, he was thinking, and he's killing us. Do you know what he's doing? Do yo u s ee it now?

Bobby Kopas fidgeted in the back seat, looking out the window on one side an d t hen the other, bending down to see the crest of the high rocks. It was s o q uiet. Sunlight up there and shade down here. Nothing moving.

"His hunting country," Renda said. "He brought us here."

"I see where we're at," Lundy said. "The lodge is only about six, eight mile s w est of here, but roundabout to get to. 'Less we want to go all the way back t o t he highway, which I don't think is a good idea."

Renda wasn't listening to him. He was picturing a man in work clothes an d s cuffed lace-up boots, a farmer, a man who lived by himself and grew melons an d d idn't say much.

"He set us up," Renda said. "The farmboy knew what he was doing all the time an d h e set . . . us . . . up."

Lundy said, "What do you want to do? Go back to the lodge? I don't see any sens e i n messing around here." He waited, watching Renda stare out the window. "Frank , what do you want to do?"

He didn't know. He realized now he didn't know anything about the man. It wa s l ike meeting him, out here, for the first time. He should have known there wa s s omeone else, another person, inside the farmer. The stunt the guy pulled wit h t he bus and trying to take him in, make a deal. That wasn't a farmer. He ha d b een too anxious to get the guy and had not taken time to think about him, stud y h im and find out who he was inside.

Lundy said, "There's no sense sitting here."

Renda continued to stare at the wall of rock ahead of them, where the roa d c urved, thinking of the man, trying to remember the things he had said, tryin g t o out-think him now, before it was too late. He didn't see the figure standin g o n the crest of the rocks, not at first. And when he saw him he was a shado w t hat moved, a dark figure silhouetted against the sky a hundred yards away , holding something, raising it.

"Get out of here!"

Renda screamed it, Lundy looked up and the rifle shot drilled through th e w indshield and into the seat between them with a high whining sound that wa s o utside, far away. The second shot tore through the glass two inches from th e f irst and Renda screamed it again, "Get out of here!"

Majestyk put four more .3030's into the car before it got around the bend an d w as out of sight. He might have hit one of them but he doubted it. He shoul d h ave taken a little more time on the second shot, corrected and placed it ove r t o the left more. That's what you get, you don't hunt in a year you forget ho w y our weapons act.

He walked away from the crest, back into the pines where Nancy was waiting b y t he truck, shaking his head as he approached her.

"Missed. Now I got to bird-dog him."

"Now?" She seemed a little surprised. "How can you catch up with him?"

"I can cross-country, he can't."

"You're really going after him?"

"We're this far," he said and watched her cock her head, then look up throug h t he pine branches.

"I think I hear a plane," she said. "You hear it?"

He heard it. Walking back from the crest into the trees he had heard it. "You'l l s ee it in about a minute," he said. "Only it's not a plane, it's a helicopter."

Harold Ritchie had radioed ahead to cars patrolling the main roads as far a s t hirty miles east of Edna. They reported, during the next half hour, no sign o f a yellow four-wheel-drive pickup, with or without anybody chasing it.

So he must have taken them up in the mountains, Lieutenant McAllen decided, an d c alled the Phoenix Police for a helicopter. Get more ground covered in an hou r t han they could in a week.

It didn't even take that long. McAllen and Ritchie had been cruising the highwa y a nd some of the back roads. They were at the road repair site when the choppe r r adioed in. There was static and the sound of the rotor beating the air, but th e p ilot's voice was clear enough.

"Three-four Bravo, this is three-four Bravo. I believe we got him. Yellow picku p t ruck heading south, in the general direction of county road 201, just west of Santos Rim, God almighty, or else it's a mountain goat. I thought he was on a t rail, but there ain't anything there. He's bouncing over the rocks, flying.

Heading down through a wash now like it's a chute-the-chute. Look at that son o f a bitch go!"

McAllen and Ritchie looked at one another. They didn't say anything.

"On 201 now heading west," the pilot's voice said. There was a pause. "Hey, w e g ot something else. Looks like . . . an Oldsmobile or a Buick, late model, dar k b lue . . . about a half mile out in front of the pickup, going like hell. Let m e g et down closer. This is three-four Bravo out."

Lieutenant McAllen looked up in the sunlight, toward the mountains, then at Harold Ritchie. "You don't suppose--"

"I'd more likely suppose it than not," Ritchie said.

They heard the radio crackle and the helicopter pilot's voice came on again.

"This is three-four Bravo. Looks like they pulled a disappearing act on us.
I don't see either one of them now. They must've turned off on a trail through th e t imber. Hang on I'll give you some coordinates."

"About how far away are we talking about?" McAllen asked Ritchie. "The genera l a rea."

"Not far. Take us twenty, thirty minutes, depending on the coordinates he give s u s."

"Then we'd still have to find them," McAllen said.

"We get enough cars up there," Ritchie said, "we can do it."

"But can we do it in time?"

Ritchie wasn't sure what he meant. "In time for what?"

"In time to keep him from killing himself," McAllen said.

Chapter
13.

WILEY WAS BORED. She had finished her book. There wasn't anything else to rea d i n the place but business and banking magazines and a few old Playboys. It was a l ittle too cold to go in the pool--which wasn't much of a thrill even when it wa s w arm. She was tired of lying in the sun but not tired enough to take a nap. Th e w hole thing, lying around swimming pools, waiting, was getting to be a bi g g oddamn bore.

And the ice in her iced tea had melted. She put the glass on the cement next t o t he lounge chair, snapped her orange bikini bottom a little higher on her can a s s he got up and went into the lodge, or whatever it was, that Frank said looke d l ike a dude ranch.

It did look like a dude ranch. All those Indian blankets and animals looking ou t o f the wall. She turned the hi-fi on, got some rock music she liked but didn'
t r ecognize and was patting her bare thighs gently, keeping time, when Frank cam e i n the front door. Frank and Gene and the new one, the little smartass carryin g a shotgun. She hadn't heard the car drive up.

"Well, hey. What's going on?"

The three of them were at the front windows, not paying any attention to her.

"I never seem to catch the beginning," Wiley said. "Will somebody tell me what'
s g oing on?"

She moved over a little, her hips keeping time with the music, to be able t o l ook out the window, past Frank and across the open yard to where the lon g d riveway came in through the trees. She didn't see the Olds; then she did--ove r t o the side a little at the edge of the trees, as if hidden there. They wer e w aiting for someone to come up the drive and as she realized this her hip s s topped keeping time and she thought of the police.

"You think," Wiley said, "I should start packing or what?"

"He's in the trees," Renda said.

"He could be," Lundy said, "if he saw us turn. But maybe he didn't."

Renda looked over his shoulder at Wiley. "Give me the glasses. Over on th e t able."

"Would you mind telling me something?"

"Give me the glasses."

He raised the window and got down on his knees, took the binoculars as sh e h anded them to him and rested his elbows on the sill. The trees were close t o h im now, dark in there but clearly defined as he adjusted the focus, scanne d s lowly toward the drive, held for a while, trying to see down the length of th e d irt road, then back again, slowly. He stopped. From the side of a tree abou t t wenty feet into the woods, Majestyk was aiming a rifle at him.

With the sound of the shot, the glass above his head shattered. Renda droppe d b elow the sill to his hands and knees, in a crouch. There was a silence befor e h e heard the man's voice, coming from the trees.

"Frank, let's finish it. Come on, I got work to do."

Wiley watched Frank crawl from beneath the window and stand up, turning to pu t h is back against the wall. She expected him to yell something at the guy, answe r h im, but he didn't. He was looking at her with a thoughtful sort of please d e xpression; not really happy, but relaxed as he drew a .45 automatic fro m u nderneath his jacket. She still didn't know what was going on.

Majestyk handed Nancy the rifle and picked up the shotgun, leaning against a t ree, as he saw the front door open.

Wiley came out in her orange bikini. She seemed at ease, even though she wa s l ooking around, more curious than afraid. Coming across the lawn she said , "Where are you?"

"Over here," Majestyk said. He saw her gaze turn this way, but was sure sh e c ouldn't see him yet.