Badwater

36

It’s a diversion Hector.

Hector you’re not taking me seriously. Hector I’m not just an airhead female.

And then she’d made some sound that Jardine could not identify — since it was too risky to get close enough to watch he’d had to listen in remotely. And so he’d had to use his imagination. When the female geologist said Hector in that pissy tone of hers, and there had been that sound, Jardine imagined the female was stamping her foot.

He liked that. Hector’s ignoring her and she’s just so pissy about it. What she needs is a good spanking.

He saw he was still twisted up about the female. He thought he’d taken care of that. He wished he could take care of it the right way. Her and him in a meadow. Out in the open. He didn’t mean out in the open where people could watch, he meant open like no shame. She’d have grass in her hair because they’d been rolling around.

Instead of the meadow he’d had to embarrass himself in the privacy of the mine.

So excuse him for making fun of her now.

He needed to remember who had truly loved him. Jersey. And look what he’d been forced into. A dude could love his dog and with a heavy heavy heart put his dog in a safer place. A dude could do the hard thing when he had to.

He took the pistol out of his pack.

The timetable was speeding up. Watering Hole was a great victory. Put the fear right inside them. Pinned them down at the Inn. Jardine didn’t know how much time this diversion would buy him. Going on what he’d overheard, plenty. Hector, you’re an idiot. Your people are idiots. I outfoxed you all. My pickup sat in the parking lot half the night and half the morning before you found it. Took you half an hour to find the tank. Take you hours to check out all the vulnerable points in the water system. Hector, you’re an…

Jardine stopped himself. “Stop it Roy.” Don’t count on hope. Count on a good plan. And practice.

He put the pistol in the holster. The holster sat low on his skinny hips. That’s the way gunslingers wore it. Looked ace. Yeah — the ponytail and the shirt and the jeans and the boots, and now the holster with the pistol butt sticking out. If only somebody could see him. Dudes, females. Any females. They wouldn’t even notice his face.

He held his hand loose, near the gun butt. One, two, three…

Hector was saying something in his earbuds about the pipeline. Hector was asking somebody where all the access points were. Hector obviously never held a crap job like plumber’s assistant.

Jardine listened to the ignorance. He wondered if anybody was going to find the little radio transmitter he’d planted last night in the scrub brush near the water tank. Didn’t matter. He’d heard plenty. He smiled.

One, two, three… Slap the butt, close his hand, draw — and now the gun was in his hand and he was aiming it at the tin can. It was already full of holes. Not much of a stand-in for a live target but it made the point. Firearm’s a serious weapon. He wished he had one of those FBI shooters but what he had was plenty. He liked the pistol because of the holster — he could admit that. He liked firearms in general better than the knife but the knife was in his pack for a reason. Redundancy, the lesson he’d learned in job eighteen. Never count on one layer of safety.

A lesson he’d give that Bastard Ballinger.

The female was talking again and Jardine got sucked in again. She sounded worried. Jardine was glad that cad Miller wasn’t there to tell her to get naked in the shower or something. Miller deserved a lesson in manners. A lesson he was going to get.

Lessons. Jardine needed one right now about the female. He needed to remember that she was coming after him. He needed to remember why. She was doing her job. She was doing it so good she was dangerous. So was the old fellow. That’s what he needed to remember.

Because he had come to the Grand Finale. Nothing must interfere.

Jardine ripped out his earbuds and holstered his pistol. He had things to do. He had to go check on the progress of the trigger event, in preparation.

Stage One of the mission, at the borax mine, had been The Trial and Ballinger was found guilty.

Stage Two was going to be the mission climax. The Grand Finale. It would be a full and deserved punishment. The name for Stage Two said it all: Death Penalty.