Blood Money

27

Jane drove the last miles to Santa Fe. She felt the weight of the travel and the time and the work. Whatever else happened, she told herself, the bulk of the money must be going where she had wanted it to. She had driven halfway across the country with the radio tuned to news stations, and she had heard nothing that could be interpreted as the death of Henry Ziegler. There had also been nothing to indicate that Bernie and Rita had been found. Maybe Rita’s earlier letter had not revealed anything. Maybe the postmark on it had been enough to lead the hunters in the wrong direction. She couldn’t count on those things, and it was unlikely that talking to Rita would reassure her.

She was confident that the Explorer still had not been identified. She could use the anonymity of the vehicle to check the town for signs. Santa Fe was small, and the places where people gathered on a summer evening weren’t far apart. She drove up and down the streets near the big hotels that surrounded the plaza, then parked and walked. There were lots of pedestrians on the streets, but most of them were grouped in ways that didn’t worry her. There were many couples—some with children and a few too old to be dangerous. The males who had no females attached to them were not the sort who raised the hairs on the back of her neck. The ones who were young, strong, and appeared to be searching seemed not to be looking for a resemblance, but a reception. Their eyes passed across her face with expressions that began as appraisal and then softened into something like hope, and finally subsided into disappointment when she deadened her own expression to look through them.

After her short walk she knew she should be reassured. If some hunting team had been close to finding the house, she probably would have noticed a few soldiers by now. Her walk through the public places in the city would have turned up at least two or three men who didn’t move much and stared at everyone who passed.

It still would not do to drive up to the house without being sure it was safe. If she approached it on foot after dark, she would have some chance of seeing an enemy before he saw her. She parked the Explorer on Canyon Road on a block lined with art galleries that had been closed for the night, then locked it and walked. Jane could see that it would be dark soon, but she had no fear that she would forget the way to Bernie’s house. She had made the trip on foot several times, and once she was a couple of miles from the city, the lights of the house would serve as a beacon.

As she crossed Apodaca Hill Road and moved into the brush and stunted trees on the far side, she felt better. If nothing had gone wrong, this would be no more than a pleasant evening stroll.

She strode quietly with her eyes ahead and her ears tuned to the sounds around her. Jane had never been uncomfortable walking in wild country alone. The dry terrain of New Mexico was still alien to her, but it had an unearthly beauty in the early evening, when the last remnants of sun-glow kept the sage and piñon visible and let her feel confident about where she placed her feet. As the minutes went by, the deepening of the shadows made her feel even better. She had learned a long time ago that—barring falls and getting lost—a human being’s worst chance of harm on this continent was from other human beings.

As she walked, she picked out shapes and configurations of rocks and spiky plants that she remembered. Somewhere in her memory she carried a map of this area, and she began to navigate by it. She knew she would have to turn and walk a few paces to the left soon, because there was a dry arroyo coming up and that was the most gradual way down. She did it, then came up the other side. She knew there was a big piñon tree at about the eleven o’clock position from where she stood, and she walked to find it. The longer she walked, the clearer it all seemed.

She could see the house now, alone in the middle of the horizon. Everything looked reassuringly calm. The lights in the kitchen were on but the blinds closed, and there was a light on upstairs in the smaller bedroom. She wondered what they were doing. Probably they were having a late dinner or washing the dishes, and they had left a light on upstairs.

Jane walked more slowly and carefully. If someone was watching the house, she didn’t want to trip over him in the dark. She bent low and tried to tell whether anyone else had passed this way recently, but in this light every indentation in the dirt could be a footprint, or could be nothing.

Then, ahead of her, she saw something, a strange, unexpected shape that she didn’t remember. It was about two feet high and bushy, but it was too long and unvarying to be natural. She changed her course to move closer. She was only a few feet away when she made out the structure. There were posts—four of them—sticking up, and strung between them was a net. She walked around to the far side of it. The net had plants stuck in it, and a couple of large rocks along the bottom. She walked around it again. The ground on the side away from the house was smooth and flat, with a plastic tarp spread over it. She knelt down and ran her fingertips along the bare surface behind it. There were footprints on this side. They were long and deep, as though a big man, or maybe two, had stood here. It wasn’t just kids building a fort.

It was a blind. Somebody had built a blind. But what would they be hunting from blinds here, in midsummer? She stepped onto the plastic tarp, knelt down behind the blind, and looked. There was a clear, unobstructed view of the house and of the trail she was about to take to the kitchen door. She judged the distance. It must be about two hundred yards. There was a wing along the left side of the blind, so she moved to that side and looked over it. This side of the blind had been put here to command a view of the first curve of the road. A car heading from Bernie’s house toward town would come around the curve, then drive straight toward the blind for—what?—ten seconds, before the next curve began and the car went past.

Jane felt an urge to run for the house, but she held it in abeyance. She moved to the front of the blind and touched one of the plants that were stuck into the netting. It was beginning to feel spongy and dehydrated, so it had probably baked in the sun. She followed the stem to the cut, and felt a sticky, wet residue, so it had been cut within a day or two. She decided they must have built this blind after dark last night, when Bernie and Rita could not have seen them doing it. She stared at the blind. They must have planned to come back tonight after dark to occupy it. The sun had already been down a half hour. She let her eyes go unfocused and looked around her for other disturbances in the landscape. A hundred feet to her right she saw a group of big rocks she remembered from her other visits, but it looked different tonight.

She moved closer and saw that a couple of feet behind the rocks was a darker shadow that kept fooling her eyes. Was there a tarp there too? She reached the spot and looked down. It wasn’t a tarp. It was a hole … a foxhole? She dropped to her knees and stared into it, then saw a vague line in the shadows. She reached down for it and touched a smooth wooden handle. She grasped it and lifted it, and found that it was much longer than she had expected, at least four feet. It was a shovel. This wasn’t a foxhole. Nobody could stand in a six-foot hole and still see over those rocks. She looked at the shovel. The spade end seemed to have an odd glow in the darkness.

She held it closer. It was covered with a bright white powder-fine dust. She used it to probe the hole, and heard a sound of paper rustling. She pushed the shovel lower to bring the paper object closer to the surface, where she could see it. The object was a big empty bag. She saw the word “Lime.” She dropped the shovel and stepped back to measure the hole with her eyes. It was a grave.

Jane turned toward the house and broke into a run, dashing straight for the kitchen. When she reached the steps, she leapt up to the landing and pounded on the door.

She stepped back, so that when the porchlight came on she would be right in the middle of it, where Rita could see her, but the light didn’t come on. Instead, the door opened and Bernie said, “Sorry, honey. This is the doorman’s night out, and I didn’t hear your car.”

Jane stepped inside and pushed past him. “I left it in town. Where’s Rita?”

Bernie opened the broom cupboard to put his shotgun away. “Upstairs. She said she was going to read. She’s got the radio on, so I guess her eyes and ears are on separate circuits.” He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Jane hurried through the dining room past the computers, across the living room, checking that the windows were covered, then up the stairs. “Rita!” she called.

“Yeah?” The voice came from the back bedroom.

Jane stepped inside. Rita was lying on the bed with her bare feet propped up on a pillow with bits of tissue jammed between her toes while the nail polish dried. There was a magazine opened facedown on the other pillow. She sat up quickly. “What’s going on?”

Jane turned off the radio by the bed. She took a deep breath, then glanced down at Rita. The girl’s eyes looked frightened and childlike. Jane’s urge to shout at her dispersed. Jane sat on the bed beside her. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What?”

Jane said gently, “I know you miss your mother. I don’t blame you for wanting her not to be worried. I never specifically said, ‘Don’t write any letters to your mother.’ But I wish now that I had.”

“But I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t say where I was, or who you were, or say Bernie was alive, or anything.”

“How many letters did you write?”

“Two. And they were to my mother, not anybody else. What—I can’t write to my mother in prison?”

Jane sighed. “The problem with prisons is that they’re filled with criminals. I think somebody read your letter. It had to be the first one, because I read the second.” Jane pointed toward the window. “Out there somebody has set up a blind.”

Jane heard Bernie move into the room behind her. “A blind what?”

“A blind. Like a duck blind. A little camouflaged barrier you hide behind to shoot something.” She looked at Bernie, then at Rita. “It’s set up to give them a view of this house and the road to town. It’s fresh—maybe a day old. Was anybody out there today?”

Rita said, “Not me.” Bernie didn’t answer, but the look on his face indicated that the question was unnecessary.

Jane said patiently, “I mean did you see anybody out there?”

“No,” said Rita.

“Then it’s probably pretty much what I thought. They were getting ready for tonight.” She glanced at her watch. “It doesn’t seem to make sense to plan to shoot somebody from a distance when they’re asleep. I think they’ll come when they expect to find us still awake and walking around in front of lighted windows.”

“You always struck me as a smart girl,” said Bernie, “but—”

“When did you go to bed last night?” Jane interrupted.

“I don’t know,” Bernie answered. “It wasn’t this early.”

“Eleven-thirty,” said Rita. “I watched the eleven o’clock news.”

“Then we’ve got two hours at the outside. Let’s assume it’s one hour.” Jane bent over, picked up Rita’s sneakers, and tossed them on the bed beside her. “Both of you get packed as quickly as you can. Don’t bring anything you’re not going to need badly, but don’t forget things like money and the IDs I gave you.”

Bernie went to his room and Jane could hear him opening and closing drawers. Rita put the suitcase Jane had bought her on the bed, then lifted armloads of clothes and tossed them inside. By the time Bernie returned, Rita had finished packing. She put on her shoes.

“All ready? Good,” said Jane. She opened her jacket and handed Rita the packet she had prepared. “These are new IDs for you and Bernie. What you’ve got to do is get into your car and get out of here. Go east, not toward town. That’s the way they seem to be expecting you to run.”

Bernie said, “What about you?”

Jane looked at him in surprise. “I’ll be safer without you. Henry said we have to take the hard disks out of the computers and destroy them. That will take me a few minutes. After that, I’ll be on my way too.”

As Jane headed for the doorway, she heard Bernie say to Rita, “I’ll wait for you downstairs, kid.” Jane reached the dining room and a moment later, Bernie was at her shoulder.

“How did they find us?”

Jane didn’t look up from the computer. “I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“Rita got in touch with somebody, didn’t she?”

Jane nodded. “Her mother.”

Bernie looked sad, but he wasn’t angry. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Jane looked at him in surprise. “Sorry?”

“She’s just a kid. Don’t blame her. Her mother is all she ever had. I just wish that you weren’t here for this. You didn’t have to come back. That wasn’t the deal.”

“We’ll all be out of here in a few minutes, before those guys get to their blind.”

“I don’t think that’s the way it’s going to happen,” he said.

Jane moved the computer closer so she could see it better, and opened the cowling on the side. “A few yards from the blind they dug a six-foot hole with lime in the bottom. What do you suppose that was for?”

“I don’t mean that,” said Bernie. “That’s probably what you think it is. But the plan isn’t right. It might be what they’d do, but it’s not what they’d want to do.”

“What do they want to do?” asked Jane wearily.

“They want their money. They don’t know I’m alive, so they’re looking for Rita, and they’re looking for anybody who’s with Rita. Probably they want you alive, so they can find out what happened to their money.” He paused. “This is not entirely good news, of course. Getting caught would be worse than being dead. But they won’t just open up on you from a distance. It’s not what they did when Tony Groppa hid his skim from the horse money, or the way they got Tippy Bono after he hijacked the Augustinos’ bagman, or—”

“I thought you didn’t know things like that.” She opened her pocketknife and used it as a screwdriver.

Bernie held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, they told me. These guys kill somebody, and it’s a story to tell for years. The ones who didn’t do it, they think about it too, want to know every detail.”

“Suppose they think the money’s already gone? They’re above revenge?”

Bernie said, “They might send two guys with rifles to pop somebody they couldn’t get close to, but what’s stopping them here?”

Rita appeared in the doorway with her suitcase. “I think Bernie’s right. Even if they want to kill us, wouldn’t it be easier if we were asleep?”

Jane gave them an exaggerated version of a cheery smile as she pulled out the last screw. “That would be great. That would give you even more of a head start. Why don’t you two talk about it in the car? That way, risking my life to come and get you won’t have been a waste of time.” She bent down and used her knife to pry the disk drive out of the first computer and disconnect the wires. She muttered to herself, “At least this is easy. Thank you, Henry, wherever you are.”

“We can’t just go out there and drive off,” said Bernie. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If somebody knows we’re here, they wouldn’t just go away and come back later, like they would with a normal hit in the middle of a city. They have to be watching the road, so we can’t get out.”

Jane pulled out the second disk drive and put both of them into her jacket pockets. “I can’t tell you how all this information makes me feel.” She paused. “Because it would take longer than I’m going to be here.” She walked toward the kitchen door.

“I wouldn’t go out there,” said Bernie.

Jane turned. “Everything you say is probably true. What it means is, if we stay here, we’re dead. If we take the car, we’re dead. If we try to make it out on foot before they get here, we have some chance.”

Rita looked at Jane, then at Bernie. “What do you think, Bernie?”

Bernie shrugged in irritation. “I’ll do what you want. It’s nothing to me. I’m old.”

“Then leave the suitcases,” said Jane. “Take the money and IDs.” She stepped to the broom cupboard and opened it. “I’ll take the shotgun.”

Jane picked up the shotgun and turned the door handle, but Rita’s voice said, “Go with her, Bernie.”

Rita was pale, her hand quivering as she moved it to the counter for support, but her voice was steady and strong. “The best way is the one you haven’t said. I’m the only one they want, and I’m the one who did this. There’s no reason for them to know there was anyone else. I’ll keep moving, turn lights on and off, play the radio loud—anything I can think of to let them know I’m still here.”

Jane stepped closer and stared at Rita for a moment, studying her closely. Rita held her head high to show that she was not going to give in this time. Without warning, Jane’s right arm shot out, the heel of her hand struck Rita’s shoulder and spun her body around, and in the same motion snaked over Rita’s right shoulder and clutched her left armpit.

Rita gasped, but the arm wouldn’t let her lungs inflate enough to let air out in a cry. In a second she had been jerked backward out the door and onto the porch.

Bernie stepped out and locked the door behind him, and Jane released her grip on Rita.

Rita whispered, “Why—”

But Jane hissed, “Because I don’t have time to be persuasive. Get across this open ground as quickly as you can. After that, there’s some cover.”

They walked rapidly, their feet crunching on the dry stubble that surrounded the house. The stars were beginning to show in the black sky, but at least the moon wasn’t bright. Jane’s major worry was Bernie. Rita was a healthy teenager who could walk all night, but Jane sensed that Bernie would be in trouble. He was a bent-over silhouette in the darkness, and his breathing began to sound labored when they were only halfway across the open ground. It occurred to her that he might not be capable of walking the four or five miles to town.

Just as Jane reached the end of the open field, her ears picked up a faint car noise. She hurried on, still listening. The sound was regular and even, but it began to seem a pitch lower than the engine of the usual car. She turned and looked toward the road.

Around the curve she could see the dark shape of a car crawling along with its lights off. When it reached a spot on the far side of the house where the bushes shielded it from the front windows, it stopped. Around the bend came a second car, then a third and a fourth. One by one, they pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped.

Jane turned toward Rita and saw that she was staring, wide-eyed, at the cars. Jane pushed her forward, then lingered to keep Bernie moving. She looked over her shoulder, then saw the first two doors open up, and men begin to climb out.

“Is that what you were expecting to see?” she whispered.

“Roughly,” said Bernie. “What now?”

“Let yourself get scared,” she said. “It helps you move faster.”