Bombed Page 19

  “Just hold on,” Hector said as he idled out of the camp. Then as soon as he was away from the camp, he goosed it and took off up the hill.

  He wasn’t trying to scare the guy or flip him off. He needed that much power to make it to the top. He felt the guy go light and practically lift off. The guy let out a squeal. Then he locked his arms around Hector’s waist, and after that he whooped and yelped and laughed all the way right in Hector’s ear. He sounded much like a teenage girl Hector had once given a ride.

  When Hector stopped at the top, his passenger acted just about as stunned as that girl had too. He still sat there, his arms clasped tight around Hector’s waist.

  “You can get off now,” Hector said.

  The top of the ridge had been clear-cut. The guy finally swung off the bike, but he looked up at the open sky and froze.

  “You okay?” Hector asked.

  A long silence from the man, and then, “Stars.”

  Hector had become suspicious of the older couple who had ridden in on the ATV’s because Annie had acted as if they were close friends of hers. Before she’d arrived, he’d assumed the old hippies had come from another campsite, and that was why they’d been able to ride here on ATV’s. But maybe instead they lived near here, way up in these woods.

  “So many,” the guy said now. Another long pause with his face tilted to the sky. “Colors too.”

  And this loony had been sitting next to the old man for a while, maybe even sharing a bottle with him.

  “See all the colors between the stars? Are those the Northern Lights?”

  Of course, this clown had been sharing bottles with just about everyone at the camp. Still.

  “I never knew the Northern Lights were so . . . curly,” he said.

  “Hey, pardner,” Hector said once he’d reached Wes on the phone. “I got a feeling I just met the chemists we’ve been looking for.”

  Chapter 27

  Wheeler was handing Annie a beer, Bull was complaining her T-shirt’s neckline was too high, the campfire was blazing, and one of her songs was blaring from the speakers hung in the trees. She needed to tell these people about Michael! But so far she hadn’t been able to get a word in. People were lining up to hug her. Kids were grabbing her around the knees begging for hugs.

  And what were Russ and Char doing here? She knew they sometimes joined these summer parties, riding over on their ATV’s. But they shouldn’t be out where they could be spotted now!

  As soon as she could, she told them that.

  “Our place is as clean as a baby’s butt,” said Russ.

  “The odd thing here is you,” said Char. “Last time you came to one of these parties you swore you’d never do it again.”

  Which was true. Annie had decided she was a prude at heart, at least when it came to all the women taking off their shirts and rubbing their boobs on each other’s, with Bull giving points that started at ten and went on up. At least tonight she’d arrived before the party got that far.

  But she was desperate, and looking around at this motley crew of drunks, she realized just how desperate she must be to have come here for help.

  Char threaded a hand into hers. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Michael. Someone’s kidnapped him.” And whenever she said this, whenever she thought it, she was almost overcome by the sick pain. Surely, it wasn’t possible, except, “They left a ransom note.”

  “Who? Why?” Char pulled her closer. “Is this some kind of cruel joke?”

  “I did a dumb thing. I said he was rich. I said he had a lot of gold.”

  “Mmmmm,” said Char.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll kill the perp,” said Russ.

  “What’s that? We get to kill somebody?” said Bull.

  “Somebody’s been kidnapped?” This came from Annie’s left.

  “Who do we get to kill?” asked a woman on her right.

  “Annie never did anything dumb. Let’s hear another Annie song!”

  It wasn’t easy to straighten the story out as it began to make its way around the fire.

  “Annie’s uncle has a bunch of gold?”

  “No, it’s Russ and Char, they’ve got tons of gold. Everybody knows that.”

  “But they’re not kidnapped. I can see them right over there.”

  “No,” Annie kept saying to all the wild misconstruings, and eventually most people seemed to get the basics. Then she added, “Buzzard’s involved.”

  “Buzzard’s a loser.”

  “He plays a mean bass.”

  “He’s not bad in bed. You’d be surprised, nothing to look at, but—”

  “I’m not buying that,” Wheeler said.

  Annie wasn’t sure if this referred to Buzzard’s skills in bed or what, but rather than follow that further, she told them about the pizza box lid, how his lights had gone out when she’d knocked on his door, and the fact that his car actually ran. Plus there was another clue she hadn’t thought of before.

  “The note said to leave the gold at the Caterpillar Lounge,” she said. “Buzzard is one of the few people who knows where Meg keeps the hide-a-key.”

  “Really? Meg has a hide-a-key? You know where it is?” asked Bull.

  “Free booze at the Caterpillar Lounge!” Just about everybody here said that.

  When Annie was finally able to be heard again, she said, “You can get into the bar, but Meg locks up the booze. She just has this soft spot for homeless musicians. She lets them sleep in the green room.”

  There was a rumble of disappointment, but once that had died down, Char said, “Still, Buzzard’s not only not that mean, he’s not that smart.”

  “That’s why I came here for help,” Annie said. “If it was only Buzzard, I think I could . . . handle him . . . or maybe just talk to him. But someone worse than Buzzard has to be behind this.”

  “Do you know his roommate Fleep?” asked Russ.

  “Sure.” Annie had met Fleep. He sometimes drove Buzzard around in that cool sports car of his. “But he’s a super successful businessman. He wouldn’t be involved in something like this. In fact, I’ve never understood why he lives with Buzzard.”

  “Because he’s a piece of lowlife shit,” Char said decisively.

  “He’s not so successful anymore,” Russ said.

  “He’s totally fucked up. Like ten million dollars fucked up,” said Char.

  “Wow! Ten million dollars. I’m impressed,” said Bull.

  “Beats all your fuck-ups,” Wheeler said.

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to work on this. To keep up my reputation,” said Bull.

  “But I don’t understand?” Again it wasn’t easy to get a word in. “What do you mean?” Annie said. “Ten million dollars? How?”

  “Same way Goldman Sachs or Bank of America can lose billions,” said Char.

  “He was managing the funds for The Foundation for Renewable Hemp,” said Russ.

  “There’s a foundation for renewable hemp?” This was another of those comments that was repeated by several people here.

  “Well, hemp is renewable. That goes without saying. We just thought the name sounded good, ecologically responsible,” explained Russ.

  “We were major contributors,” said Char. “In fact, Russ is on the foundation’s board.”

  Russ stood a little taller but still didn’t look like anyone who might be on a board.

  And now Annie was completely confused. “How could you do that?”

  “I’m hurt,” said Russ. “I can be executive. I can out-executive anyone in Moscow.”

  “We’re involved in a number of organizations for good causes,” said Char.

  “But I thought—”

  “You thought we spent all our time in that little cabin?” said Russ. “Doing what? Communing with nature?”

  Maintaining a low profile, yes. “You never visit me.”

  “Well, Annie, we can’t visit you.” Char rubbed her back consolingly.

  “Back to Fleep,” said Russ.
“I’d like to kill him even if he didn’t kidnap Michael.”

  “Buzzard too,” Wheeler said. “Unless you need him to play bass for you, Annie.”

  “We’ll kill whoever our Annie wants us to kill,” said Bull.

  *

  Fleep had managed to get Buzzard’s wreck of a Valiant started again, and all the way up into fourth gear again too, but he thought his jaw had been knocked loose. For sure some of his teeth. Once he’d run that geriatric down, the old guy had proven to be a nasty, unprincipled brawler. Fleep hadn’t fought anyone so wild and vicious since third grade. By the time he’d dragged the geezer back to the car, he even had bite marks on both hands. He was going to need a tetanus shot. Maybe a rabies shot.

  And he’d had to drop his medical insurance when his investments went south.

  “Grrfff! Mmmf!”

  Plus he’d run out of duct tape. He’d done the best he could with what had been left on the roll, but the old guy could still make noises like that. And sometimes he got to kicking the back of Fleep’s seat. Fleep was liable to get kidney damage on top of everything else.

  “Rrrrg! Grrrrg!” Another thump right in the kidneys.

  Buzzard should be here keeping the guy under better control. But Buzzard had bailed, because he didn’t have an agile mind. He was a bass player, after all.

  It was important to have an agile mind. Because things kept changing no matter how well you thought you had them planned out. Like even when the Fed was doing its POMO thing and goosing most of the markets so you would think everything would run smooth, shorts still got squeezed. Robo-trades went off the map. And old farts refused to tell you where they’d hidden their gold.

  Plus no one felt sorry for a fund manager who had lost other people’s money unless he funneled a lot of that money into politicians’ hands. Fleep had hoped to get to that level, and it was disturbing to face the fact that he was still so minor league, working for a bunch of old pot heads, driving a car that jerked and rattled so bad it was hard to tell how many cylinders were still firing.

  But he did have an agile mind. That was why he’d made a pretty good run with straddles and swaps and other fun but possibly sketchy derivatives.

  “Brrrrrrrrrmmmmmg.”

  And the geezer was beginning to wind down.

  He just needed to get a little farther out this road. Once he reached the woods he would tie Annie’s uncle to a tree where no one would find him until Fleep had his gold. He didn’t need Buzzard’s help. He would get the gold. Then he would tell Annie where to find the tree.

  And he would get out of the country. That hadn’t been his plan at first, but again, this was a matter of agility, of being able to change course when treacherous obstacles arose. Like prison terms. He hadn’t yet figured out the exact logistics of how he was going to travel as heavy as the gold was sure to be. According to his calculations, ten million dollars’ worth would be more than three hundred pounds, and the airlines’ overweight fees ought to be illegal.

  A car would be good, but not this one. The rattling had turned into more of a banging sound. Maybe he could sell some of the gold and get his Lexus back before heading for the border. But it said right in the owner’s manual of the Lexus IS C that the trunk was built to hold only two golf bags.

  At least he was almost out of this farmland where there weren’t any trees to tie anybody to, and if he left Annie’s uncle just out in a field, some farmer was sure to find him there, possibly before Fleep had his gold. You couldn’t trust a farmer not to go to work at the crack of dawn, even on a major national holiday.

  Fleep could see the forest rising up ahead when Buzzard’s piece of shit car gave one last feeble gasp and clanked to a stop.

  “Mrrrmph?” from the backseat.

  “Mrrrmph yourself, asshole.” Fleep tried to get the thing going again but soon realized it was hopeless. At least there was enough slope here that he was able to roll it off the road onto the shoulder.

  But now more agility was required.

  “This is just going to have to do,” he told the old guy. “But I can’t leave you in the backseat where any nosy nitwit who looks in will see you. I’ll put a note on the windshield about how I’ve gone to get gas, and you’ll have to wait in the trunk.”

  “Grmmph!”

  It wasn’t ideal. At least the geezer was taped up enough that he couldn’t bite anymore, or punch Fleep in his sore jaw. Still, the bastard wasn’t cooperative, and Fleep had hobbled his legs, so basically he had to drag the guy out of the car, around to the back, and tip him into the trunk.

  Luckily, no one drove by while he was in the middle of this tricky maneuver.

  Fleep slammed down the trunk. Some thumping from inside and more muffled complaints with no vowels.

  “Relax, buddy. Annie’s on her way.”

  What was the uncle complaining about anyway? All he had to do was lie there in the trunk. Fleep had to get to the Caterpillar Lounge. That was at least ten miles from here!

  *

  “How about your friend Wes?” asked Russ.

  “Yeah, a hunk with gun training?” said Char. “He should be a big help.”

  “Are you crazy? I told you what he is!” As Annie had hoped, everyone here at the camp had jumped on board the only plan she’d been able to come up with. All this man and woman power was going to surround the Caterpillar Lounge and grab the guy who came to get the gold—even though there wouldn’t actually be any gold, of course. But one of the kidnappers would come, these guys would catch him, and then they would beat the crap out of him until he told them where Michael was.

  Maybe that would work.

  But nothing was happening yet! People were putting kids to bed and discussing who would have to stay here with the kids and miss out on the fun. Anyone who wasn’t doing that was standing around still drinking beer and blustering about how they were going to kill someone. While Russ and Char were just sitting by the fire and still obsessing about Wes! And not about the fact that he wanted to lock them up for the rest of their lives.

  “You should be more careful with your use of the word crazy,” said Russ. “Personally, I agree with Thomas Szasz. Mental illness is only a metaphor for behavior with which society isn’t comfortable. So you’re saying you’re not comfortable with my asking about your friend Wes?”

  “Yes! I’m not comfortable!” Annie just had to leave them there, their hands entwined like teenagers. She went to help put the kids to bed.

  Eventually, that was done. Then everyone except the few women who had reluctantly volunteered to stay at the camp climbed into three of the trucks. Not everyone fit in the cabs, but many preferred to ride in the backs on such a nice summer night in spite of complaints from the three newbies—the one Annie felt she might have seen before and two who looked as if they’d come here to sell life insurance. Whoever those three men were, their concern that riding in the back of a pickup might be illegal—apparently it was in some states and none of them was sure about Idaho—just made everybody else shrug and shake their heads in disbelief. At the possibility of such a stupid law, or at the fact that these hall monitors had somehow become a part of their group, or both.

  The life insurance salesmen, who seemed to be having a disagreement of their own, possibly due to one of them having gotten fairly well lit, took their own SUV.

  Annie couldn’t ride in one of the trucks either, even though she would have loved to be outside with the wind whipping through her hair. Maybe the feeling of speed would have made her feel more like she was doing something, and seeing the trees and stars all around might have eased the sick pain that had settled deep in her heart.

  But since she’d driven Michael’s car up here, she had to drive it back to town. And really, once she was in it, she was glad to be alone. Away from all these good-intentioned but definitely drunk people who she didn’t think would actually kill anyone.

  Also away from Russ and Char and their fascination with Wes.

  She followed the t
rucks a good distance behind because of the dust on the gravel road. On the pavement she fell even further back since the trucks had ten times as many horses as the little Beetle. Once she had cell signal she stopped to send a text to the kidnappers the way the ransom note had told her to do, saying she would deliver the gold to the Caterpillar Lounge.

  Then she was even further behind the trucks, even more alone, and she thought about her uncle. She wondered what he was doing now. She feared he was suffering horribly, even if the kidnappers hadn’t yet followed through with any of their gory threats.

  He was never really comfortable anywhere but home.

  Chapter 28

  Fleep couldn’t keep his tongue from poking at his loose teeth, he’d identified a pain in his side as an early sign of rabies, and now his feet hurt too. It was so late at night none of the hicks who lived out here were driving to town anymore. The only cars that had passed him on this desolate road had been going the other way, home to their hick houses after a fun night in town.

  Fleep’s night was turning out to be just about as bad as when the repo pricks took his car.

  Plus he had to pee. This was open farmland, not a tree or bush in sight. No one else in sight either though. When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he just turned his back to the road.

  Midstream a pickup truck sped past. It was going the wrong way too, but it went by so fast it startled him. He could feel its wind. He turned to look and pissed right on his shoe.

  *

  Wes was pushing the Fish and Wildlife truck as fast as it would go when he saw a guy at the side of the road. Ordinarily at night on a deserted road like this, he would have stopped and asked if the guy needed help, but now that Hector had called, now that he knew where Annie was—and his boss had come through and arranged with FWS to let him keep this truck for a while—he didn’t want to stop for anything.

  Besides, the guy at the side of the road had looked indisposed.

  Not far after that, there was a car parked on the shoulder. No surprise. Wes saw no reason to stop at the broken down car when he’d flown right by the stranded driver. He passed the car. It was in his rearview, this decrepit Valiant that might have once been pink. But then he slowed. Something had triggered in his mind. He’d seen that car before. Now he remembered where.