Storm Runners (27 page)

A
t first light Stromsoe was sitting in Frankie Hatfield’s living room, the sun splintering through the avocado trees and the coffeemaker gurgling in the kitchen. Frankie and Ace had slept through the ringing cell phone that woke him half an hour ago. Stromsoe had rolled out of bed and talked to Ken McCann from the dark breakfast nook. Lunce had had a wife and two young children.

Sadie now sat at his feet as Stromsoe loaded Frankie’s double-barreled twenty-gauge. It was a heavy Savage Arms side-by with a blond stock and two triggers that could be simultaneously pulled for a double discharge that at close range would blow a hole the size of a softball in a man. Sadie followed him to the foyer, where he stood
the gun upright in the right-hand corner, then set four extra shells behind the butt. He looked out the window. She followed him to the kitchen, where he poured a cup of coffee.

“Don’t worry,” he said to the dog, but the dog looked worried anyway.

Stromsoe walked quietly back to the living room with the coffee, sat on the couch that gave him an easy view of both the front door and the back of Frankie’s sprawling farm.

He thought that if he’d been this ready on behalf of Hallie and Billy, he might have prevented what happened, though he wasn’t sure exactly how. He could have requested a bomb-sniffing dog and the department would have given him one. He could have requested a wheeled mirror with a long handle to slide under his vehicles each morning and the department would have given him one of those too. But the fact was that La Eme didn’t use explosives. It would have been as logical to hire food tasters. The compelling fact was that Stromsoe hadn’t believed Mike would try to kill him at all. He’d believed that Mike would see the accident of Ofelia for what it was and that their bond, forged in the friendship of adolescence and finished by the enmity of manhood, would prevent such blunt, mortal action. It seemed almost silly now, because he understood their differences in a way that he hadn’t when he was young. Mike’s blood was heavier than his own. Mike was Spaniard and Aztec, the conquistador and the warrior. He was the serpent and the eagle. He was Montezuma, who had ruled Tenochtitlán, who offered gold to Cortés and was murdered for his generosity. Mike was the pyramids where thousands of human hearts were cut out and held up beating to the sun; he was the young women thrown into sacrificial cenotes loaded with gold and jewels that took them straight to the green depths, where they were reduced to bones and soon to not even that.

Stromsoe remembered something that Mike had told him years ago, just after Hallie had brought her bruised and broken body back to him.

Keep her. You’re the romantic, not me.

Frankie came out in her blue terry robe and sat next to Stromsoe on the couch. He told her about McCann’s call.

“How fast could he get here?” she asked quietly.

“Late morning, if he flies.”

“But he wouldn’t fly, would he? They’ll watch the airports up there.”

“He probably won’t fly. I put your shotgun in the foyer, Frankie. It’s loaded and on safe. Either trigger and it fires.”

“What if he drives?”

“Early afternoon.”

“Is he going to come after me, Matt?”

“He will.”

“He won’t just hire it out like before?”

“I doubt it.”

She nodded and bit her lip, dark hair dangling down.

“Can you take a week off?” he asked.

She shook her hair back behind her shoulder and looked at him. “I will not take a week off. I don’t budge.”

“He could come today, Frankie. Or it could be a year from today.”

“Which is more likely?”

Stromsoe thought about it. “A year. He’d want us to be afraid.”

“Can he stay lost for a year?”

“If he makes it past the first eight hours. All he had on them was about an hour head start.”

“But they haven’t caught up with him yet, have they?” she asked. “He’s been gone since eleven last night? That’s eight hours ago, exactly.”

“If he makes it past the Mexican border, he can stay lost forever.”

“And it’s easy to get back in,” said Frankie.

“Children do it.”

“Oh, man.”

“Frankie, you’re going to have to stay alert to stay alive. Every second, every minute. You can do it if you stay patient and relaxed. Don’t let it hurry you. Eyes open. Mind open. Always thinking. It isn’t a bad way to live once you get used to it. I did it for years undercover. You have to understand it’s a long run. You have to slow everything down.”

“I’m getting my own carry permit.”

“You should.”

“We’ll practice every day at the range, then come home and make loud, explosive, ballistic love.”

He smiled.

“I need a cup of coffee,” she said. “Hopefully Tavarez isn’t waiting for me in the kitchen.”

“I checked it out. You’re good.”

“
You’re
good.”

Ace arrived on scene, yawned, then stretched out in a bed of sunlight coming through an east window.

“I just had an idea,” said Frankie. She was halfway to the kitchen. “What if we get an apartment downtown? But instead of living there, we just sleep there, and spend the rest of our free time rebuilding the barn?”

Stromsoe considered. “You’re just as exposed downtown as you
are here. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out the change of address.”

“Right, but we just sleep there. Then, bright and early, we get up and head for the barn. We’ll get the gate lock fixed so only we can get in. There’s only the one road. And once we’re there we can see in every direction, you know? If anyone came walking up or came in off road, we’d see them way early. Ted can stand guard. He’d love to. And we work outside until I have to go to work, we build a new barn and I can set up all the stuff. My formula works, Matt. It
works.
”

“I saw it work, Frankie. I can vouch for that.”

“We got four and three-sixteenths inches in two hours. Santa Margarita Preserve, right next door, they got
two and three-tenths.
Fallbrook got
two and one-tenth.
San Diego got
two.
Temecula, Valley Center, and Escondido got
two and a quarter.
”

“I know, Frankie.”

“What I’m saying is I’ve got the real thing, Matt. The real, actual thing that Charley was almost onto. I’m going to be a genuine, legitimate rainmaker.”

“I’m a believer.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“Then wait right where you are,” she said. “I’ve got something for you.”

She went down the hall and into the river room. He could hear the closet open, then the sound of objects being moved. A few minutes later he heard the closet door slide shut.

She came back with a sheaf of stapled papers in her hand.

“I had to make some small changes after last night. It’s all here—the components and where to get them at the best prices, how to
make it, how to disperse it. It’s everything Charley started and I continued. You might need Ted or a chemist to figure out some of it. Oh, and when you stir the final mix don’t get the fumes directly in your face and don’t stir too fast. It’s not like whipping egg whites—if you go too fast the hydrogen atoms bond up too early with the chlorides and it gets mucky. Watching me in the truck mirror wasn’t quite enough for you to learn it right. There’s touch involved, and concentration.”

She handed the booklet to Stromsoe.

He looked up at her. “I never thought a few sheets of paper would make me feel so honored.”

She sat down next to him. “Look, I can probably get the rest of the week off, but they’ll need me for tonight. I’ll call Darren.”

“That’s a smart thing, Frankie. It’s not surrender.”

“I might do some of that. Where shall we go?”

“The mountains. You’ve never bottled the San Joaquin River.”

“I’m there.”

Ten minutes later it was set. Darren gave her four days off so long as she could broadcast this evening. And a dog-friendly cabin with a view of Mammoth Mountain was on hold with Stromsoe’s credit card.

STROMSOE PACKED A WEEK’S worth of things then talked to Dan Birch, Ken McCann, and Warden Gyle. Tavarez had not been seen. Gyle learned that Lunce had been in El Jefe’s pocket and this was not the first time that Lunce had escorted Tavarez outside his cell for “unauthorized activities.” Some CO heads would roll, he said—the union be damned. His most trusted situation manager, Cartwright, was a good ear inside the guard union. Gyle was still not
sure whether Lunce had uncuffed the prisoner and allowed himself to be surprised by the razor blade, or if Tavarez had concealed and wielded the blade with his mouth, then let himself loose using the guard’s key. It was also possible that the second or third parties who had cut the hole in the fence had subdued Lunce. He said it was the bloodiest thing he’d ever seen.

“The guards are going to set up a fund for the family,” said Gyle.

“I’ll kick in,” said Stromsoe.

“I’ll let you know when we pick him up.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He called John Cedros’s cell phone. Cedros said he and Marianna and Tony were already halfway to Bishop. Stromsoe said there was a GPU homing device under the rear bumper of his car, please pull it off and mail it to Birch Security. Stromsoe wished him luck and asked Cedros to give him his home address when he got a chance.

“I’m mailing you the evidence against Choat,” said Stromsoe. “I’ve got copies and so does Birch Security. Choat clearly solicits you to burn down the barn. He roars it out, over the sound of the river. The fact that Mother Nature did it for him doesn’t change anything. I doubt he’ll ever bother you again.”

“Thanks, man. I really mean it.”

“Thank Marianna for making that call to Birch. It saved at least one life. Take care of your family.”

“Vaya con Dios, PI.”

“Always.”

Stromsoe sat in the living room for a moment, listening to the hum of water going through the pipes to Frankie’s shower. They’d be leaving for her work in less than an hour. The thought of Frankie
Hatfield cheered his heart and he looked through the windows. The guns of Pendleton began thundering away in the west.

A faint feeling of relief came to Stromsoe, and he was surprised by how large and welcome it was.

He loaded his bags into the pickup, then Frankie’s as she got them packed.

Frankie was in the kitchen packing up some food to take when Stromsoe’s cell phone rang.

“Hello, Matt.”

“Hello, Mike.”

Frankie looked up and her face went pale.

“I’m out.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t think it would feel this good.”

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“I’m going to come see you sometime soon.”

“Let me know when you’re in town.”

The artillery went off again. Stromsoe heard the concussion of it hit his chest like a bass drum in a marching band.

He also heard it coming through the cell phone into his ear.

He motioned Frankie to the floor. She pulled the gun from her purse and sank down, her back to the refrigerator. The dogs waddled over and Frankie had the presence of mind to reach up and set the gun on the counter then take each animal by its collar.

Think of something. Keep him on.

“I heard you made a real mess up there,” said Stromsoe.

“I can’t get the smell off.”

“The ocean can.”

“First things first.”

Stromsoe went to the foyer and looked out the windows to the avocado orchard.

“That razor-blade-in-the-mouth trick,” said Stromsoe. “I read about it years ago in the
FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin
.”

“I did too.”

“You going to kill Frankie, or both of us?”

“Frankie.”

“Weren’t Hallie and Billy enough?”

“Nothing is enough.”

The artillery sounded against his body and through the phone. From the corner of the foyer Stromsoe scooped up four shot shells and stuffed them into a pocket. Then he tucked the butt of the blond shotgun under his right arm, slid off the safety, and trotted down the hallway.

“You’d like Frankie,” said Stromsoe. “You wouldn’t hurt her if you just knew her a little.”

“That’s very Matt, Matt.”

The master bath was damp and still smelled of soap and shampoo from Frankie’s shower. There was a sliding-glass door leading outside to a small patio with wooden furniture and a
chimenea
. Beyond the patio was a stand of eucalyptus trees, and beyond them the orchard. Stromsoe believed that Mike was in that orchard, watching the front of the house. He was armed and intended to kill them both when they came out the front door. This was only a guess but a guess informed by the twenty-four years he’d known the boy and the man he became. It was possible that Mike had someone with him but Stromsoe believed he was alone. In his own way, Mike had always been alone. Stromsoe’s plan was to get fifty yards into the looming avocado trees without being seen, then come up on Mike from behind.

He quietly slid open the door and stepped outside.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Ofelia was an accident? I wasn’t
there,
Mike.”

“You created the
there,
” said Tavarez. “You made it what it was. At a certain point, the only thing that can happen is what does happen. This is called consequence and it’s a simple concept, my old friend.”

Stromsoe passed through the eucalyptus and into the fragrant shade of the orchard, balancing the shotgun on the meat of his right arm like a bird hunter, left hand raised to his ear with the cell phone, eyes searching the orchard beyond the drive. His heart was pounding wild and fast.

The cannons boomed through the sky from Pendleton.

And echoed through the speaker of the phone.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” asked Stromsoe.

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“We were friends once, Mike.”