Shoot Angel! (5 page)

He slept lightly through the
long night, waiting and watching, but no one came until the
morning. Angel had seen the darkness evaporate,
graying as pale fingers of
sunlight trickled in through the barred window of the cell, edging
slowly across the stone floor. In the cold, lonely pre-dawn hours
Angel had slipped off the cot, moving silently back and forth
across the floor, flexing and testing the bruised, stiffened sinews
of his body. His muscles ached and it felt as if each joint was
about to lock solid. But for fifteen long minutes he endured the
discomfort, knowing that the difference between life or death could
easily hang on how swiftly he could respond in a threatening
situation.

Angel was back on the cot,
motionless, when the door at the end of the passage crashed open,
and
the two
deputies—Duggan and Koch—swaggered towards the cell. They peered in
at Angel’s still figure for a minute. Koch produced a key which he
placed in the lock of the door. He released the door and swung it
open. By this time Duggan had his gun in his hand. He stepped
inside the cell.

‘
Seems
a shame to wake him,’ Koch said. ‘He looks kind of
cozy.’

Duggan apparently
didn
’t share
his partner’s humor. He stepped to the end of the cot, caught hold
of the end and tipped it sideways, spilling Angel to the
floor.

‘
Cozy
ain’t what this son of a bitch is about to get,’ Duggan snapped.
‘If I had my way I’d stomp the bastard right through the cracks in
this floor!’

Shrugging off the blanket Angel
climbed to his feet. He stood waiting for Duggan
’s next move. The deputy’s face
reflected his inner hostility towards his prisoner, and Angel knew
enough not to do any provoking.

‘
Forget it,’ Koch said. ‘The judge’s waiting, and you know
he don’t like being delayed.’

Duggan growled something under
his breath. He jerked his gun in Angel
’s direction.

‘
Out!’
he said. ‘And make it fast!’

They took Angel along the
passage to the office. The sheriff was there and so was the man
they called the judge. The judge was fiddling with some
legal-looking papers. He glanced up as Angel was shoved through the
door. Angel took one look at the judge
’s hard, lined face, the flinty eyes,
and decided there and then that he didn’t like the man.

‘
This
the prisoner?’ The judge’s voice was as cold as the expression on
his face. Sheriff Sherman nodded and the judge asked: ‘He said
anything?’

‘
No,
your Honor,’ Sherman replied. ‘The prisoner has declined to give
any kind of statement.’

‘
I
don’t like
uncooperative prisoners,’ remarked the judge. ‘Seems to be a sign
of non repentance.’

‘
Seems
to me a man might be willing to repent if he knew what he’d done in
the first place,’ Angel observed.

The judge glanced up at the prisoner. His
brow furrowed as he studied the face of the young man standing
before him.

‘
I
could almost
believe you didn’t know what it is you’ve done. You’ll be telling
the court you’ve lost your memory next.’

‘
Way
the law treats a body in this town that’s quite likely to happen,’
Angel said.

Sherman smiled.
‘Wish I had a
dollar for every prisoner who’s come in here with that old
tale.’

‘
You
figure I got these bruises playing the piano?’ Angel turned to face
the judge. ‘Humor me, Judge. And tell me what I did.’

‘
First
you savagely attacked two of this town’s duly appointed law
officers. You then made a nuisance of yourself over at the saloon
known as Jinty’s Palace, terrifying one of the employees before
causing damage to the premises themselves.’

‘
I do all that?’ Angel asked.

‘
Why
did you come to Liberty?’ The judge leaned forward to ensure he
heard Angel’s reply.

‘
Just
looking for a friend. I heard he was here.’

The judge stroked his cheek.

‘
This
friend—what’s your business with him?’

‘
That’s my affair, Judge.’

The judge sl
ammed his hand down on the
desktop.

‘
Smart-mouth me, my boy, and I won’t let you forget it in a
hurry! Now who is this so-called friend you say you came looking
for?’

‘
I
figure you already
know that. And I don’t think I’d be far wrong guessing it’s why
you’re taking such an interest in me. Am I right or am I wrong,
Judge?’

‘
I
haven’t an idea
what you’re talking about,’ the judge snapped. He shuffled the
papers on the desk before him. ‘Sheriff, there isn’t a name on
these documents. Who is this man?’

Sherman
’s face reddened visibly. ‘I ... er
sorry, your Honor! You, what’s your name?’

‘
Angel—Frank Angel!’

The judge hastily filled in the empty
spaces.

‘
The
prisoner is guilty on all charges. Sentence is six months’ hard
labor. Deputies, take him away!’

Sherman could hardly wait to round on the
judge. He contained himself until Angel had been removed from the
office.

‘
Jesus
Christ, Amos, this is getting crazy! Why in hell pull such a fool
stunt with him? Damn it, Amos, he’ll ask his questions at the
camp!’

Judge Amos Cranford drew a black leather case
from the inside of his coat. With careful deliberation he slid out
a fine Havana cigar, which he had imported from Cuba, cut it and
lit it. He gazed at Phil Sherman through a cloud of blue smoke and
let a smile curl up the corners of his mouth.

‘
Of
course this man, Angel, will ask his questions. It won’t get him
anywhere. When Duggan and Koch take him up to the camp they can
have a word with Trench. He can pass the word to the prisoners that
no one must talk to this man. You know how Trench runs the camp.
Angel won’t get so much as a hello.’

‘
I’m
not so sure this is wise, Amos. Working the set-up on Culp was all
right until we come across that money in his saddlebags. Hell,
there’s a difference between screwing money out of the county for
prisoners’ upkeep and pocketing it and downright murder for
seventy-five thousand dollars.’

‘
Phil,
only you and I know about that money. Harry Culp is dead, so he
won’t be doing any talking. Your two deputies, Trench and his boys,
they’re involved in our other little scheme, so I don’t figure any
of them to go shouting their mouths off. I dare say that Trench
will be willing to undertake staging another accident for
us.’

Sherman
’s eyes widened with the alarm
festered by Cranford’s casual remark.

‘
You
going to have Angel killed too?’

‘
The
neatest way out, Phil.’

‘
Sure.
Will we do the same with the next one who comes looking for Culp?
And the next? How many do we have to get rid of?’

‘
Don’t
exaggerate the problem, Phil.’ Cranford stood up and crossed over
to stare out of the window. ‘This man—Angel—is obviously a partner
of the late Harry Culp. When Culp offered me a share of that
seventy-five thousand to let him go, he hinted that it was money
from some unlawful venture he’d been involved in. He was a fool! He
was so ready to make a deal to get out of the camp and away from
Trench that he forgot I already had the money and that he wasn’t in
any position to make bargains!’

‘
Yeah,’ Sherman snapped. ‘So Culp’s dead and you aim to kill
this Angel. Does that guarantee we’ll be safe?’

‘
Got
to take risks, Phil. Life’ll pass you by if you don’t have the
nerve to grab the opportunity when it shows itself. God, Phil, it’s
a lot of money. More than the chicken-feed we’ve been making up to
now!’

‘
You
never complained before.’

Cranford smiled.
‘True. But a man
gets to a point where he wants to grow. He pushes his horizon
further out and he needs to expand. Maybe you hadn’t noticed, Phil,
but there’s a hell of a big world outside of Liberty.’

A scowl darkened
Sherman
’s
face. ‘All I know, Amos, is that even half of seventy-five thousand
dollars isn’t going to buy it for you!’

Cranford
didn
’t reply
to that. He gazed out of the window, an odd little smile flickering
across his face. A half of seventy-five thousand dollars might not
get me all I want, but the whole damn bundle sure will! The thought
pleased him greatly, and he turned towards Sherman, beaming
expansively. Don’t worry, Phil, he thought again, you won’t have to
fret over the matter for much longer. That’s one thing about being
dead—all your worries die with you!

Angel squatted silently in the
rear of the creaking flatbed wagon as it wound its dusty way up
into the sun-blistered hills above Liberty. He wore heavy manacles
on his wrists and legs, these being linked to an iron ring bolted
to the floor of the wagon. Progress along the rutted trail was
slow, the ride uneven, and Angel decided that he deserved every
savage spasm of pain that ripped through his aching body. The fact
that he was possibly on his way to finding out where Harry Culp was
did little to soothe his mood of self-disgust. It was not hard for
him to conjure up a picture of the Attorney
General
’s
reaction if he ever got to hear how one of his top investigators
was conducting himself.

Koch was driving the wagon.
Beside him sat Duggan, a sawn-off shotgun cradled in his
arms
. He
appeared to be treating the whole trip as a huge joke—at Angel’s
expense.

‘
Like
I said, Angel, you’ll take to Trench’s place.’ Duggan grinned. He
hitched himself round on the wagon seat. ‘One thing about Trench—he
just loves hard bastards like you! I swear I never met a feller
enjoys his work so much as Trench!’

‘
Him
an’ that damn whip!’ Koch giggled. ‘I do reckon he takes that thing
to bed with him!’

‘
I
seen him lace a
man’s back open clear down to the bone!’ Duggan stared at Angel’s
face as he spoke. There was no reaction and Duggan growled
peevishly. ‘Yeah, well, we’ll see how tough you are when Trench
gets his hands on you!’

‘
Is
this where I’m supposed to say how scared I am?’ Angel
asked.

‘
Balls, Angel!’ Dug sleeved sweat from his face. ‘I don’t
reckon you’re so damn tough.’

‘
I
can live with
that.’

Koch spat over the side of the
wagon.
‘Yeah, but how long for?’

The ride took almost four
hours. Angel spent the time observing the silent, barren terrain
they were passing through. A better place for a
hard-
labor
camp would be difficult to find. Desolate, waterless country, where
a man on foot would very quickly find himself in trouble. Survival
would only be for the fittest. Any luckless individual who somehow
managed to escape from the brutal privation of a hard-labor gang
was likely to be less than fit right from the start. Angel wondered
if anyone had ever escaped from the camp run by this man called
Trench.

Or would he
—Angel—be the first? Because
that’s just what he intended to do once he’d got the information he
needed.

Angel willed himself to relax
during the journey. He knew that in the time ahead he was going to
need all his strength. There was no way of telling the kind of
pressure he might be under at the camp. It was going to be a case
of reacting to whatever cropped up
—no matter what.

An hour after midday Koch swung
the wagon over a steep rise and took it along the final stretch of
the trail. Just below them, nestling at the base of a high,
sheer
rock
face, lay the camp.

Angel
’s first impression was of an ugly
sprawl of wooden buildings inside a wide, exposed compound. On
three sides tall fences, strung with barbed wire, enclosed the
compound. The fourth side of the compound was the sheer rock face
itself.

‘
All
the comforts of home,’ Angel observed drily as Koch brought the
wagon to a halt before the closed gates of the compound.

Duggan, in the act of stepping to the ground,
threw him an angry scowl.

‘
Mister, in a couple of days you’ll wish you’d never of left
your mammy’s side!’

Angel watched him trudge to the gates as they
were opened by an armed guard.

‘
Ain’t
a funny bone in his whole body,’ he told Koch.

Koch glanced back over his shoulder.