Devils and Dust (32 page)

“The trial,” Keller said. “They said they were going to put Oscar on some kind of fake trial.”

“All units acknowledge,” the voice said. Other voices crackled back, affirming the order. There was brief silence before the first voice spoke again, “Loomis, acknowledge.”

“You think Loomis is the guy who we left tied to a tree back there?” Castle asked.

“I’d say it’s likely,” Keller said. He keyed the microphone and said, “Acknowledged.” He turned to Castle. “I’ll take the four-wheeler,” he said, “wearing the hat and sunglasses we took off our charming friend back there. It sounds like everyone’s invited to this bullshit trial in the Judicial Building. They’ll all be together. I’ll try to get close enough to neutralize any guards they leave outside.”

“How you plan to do that, Keller?” Castle said, eyes narrowed.

“Get the drop on them if I can. Give them a chance to surrender. Look, Castle, I’m not any more eager to kill people than you are.”

Castle relaxed slightly. “Okay. But then I should be the one to go.”

“Have you been paying attention to who we’re dealing with? These people aren’t going to surrender to you.”

Castle grimaced. “Okay. Point taken. So what do I do?”

“You get behind this building. Stay here with the M4 and give me overwatch. If the whole thing goes sideways, start firing grenades. All over the place. Make them think there’s a whole platoon out there. Cause as much confusion as you can without killing anyone. If I take care of the outside guards, come join me. We go in, get everybody down on the ground, then grab our people, and get the hell out of Dodge. How are you at crowd control?”

“Fair to middling,” Castle said. “Although around here, ‘crowd control’ means clearing the good old boys out of the parking lot of Duke’s Bar & Grill after closing time.”

“Well, let’s just hope your cousin shows up, or it’s going to be a long walk out of here.”

A
T THAT
moment, Posey Cartwright sat in the driver’s seat of the bright blue MRAP, arms folded across his massive chest, eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead. The vehicle wasn’t moving. It was blocked in by two Sheriff’s cars that sat nose to nose across the road in front of him and two more directly behind. A sweating, red-faced Sheriff’s deputy was up on the running board, pounding on one of the thick, bulletproof windows and shouting at Posey to get his ass out of the truck. Posey pretended not to hear him. He didn’t know what to do. That made him angry, and anger made him mulish. He was going to sit there until he figured out what to do. Something would come to him. He may have always been slow, but he wasn’t stupid.

C
ASTLE OPENED
the gate with the keys they’d taken from Loomis, and Keller drove through. They reached the wooden building, with Keller still astride the four-wheeler and Castle on foot. Keller got off the ATV and walked to the corner of the building. Making sure his hat and glasses were in place, he peeked around the corner.

He saw a line of similar buildings, spaced about thirty feet apart, with a path running along the space between the buildings and the fence. None of the buildings appeared to have any windows, save for a few narrow slits high up on the walls. There were no doors on this end that he could see. He faded back behind the building and spoke into Castle’s ear to be heard over the rumble of the four-wheeler without having to shout.

“There’s a line of these buildings,” he said. “This is the back side. I’m going to head for the front, between these first two. Cover me.” Castle nodded his understanding. Keller mounted the ATV and steered it slowly up the path. The sun was low in the afternoon sky behind the buildings, and the space between was cool and shadowed. There was no sound except the trilling of a bird outside the fence.

“Where the hell is everybody?” Castle said.

T
HERE WERE
twenty prisoners lined up in rows before the long table where the General sat, wearing his black robe. Three guards leaned against the wall on the right; another three stood guard behind the table, weapons at port arms. Oscar Sanchez stood alone before the table, in front of the group of prisoners.

“Oscar Sanchez,” the General said. “You have been found guilty of violating the sacred and sovereign borders of the United States. The penalty for that is life at hard labor.”

“I don’t recall there being a trial,” Oscar said mildly.

One of the guards started for him, but the General waved him back. “You have also been found guilty of conspiring to resist the lawful authority of this citizen’s tribunal.” He paused. “The penalty for that is death by hanging.”

“No,” a voice came from the crowd. Oscar recognized Ruben’s voice.

“Silence!”

“Listen,” Oscar said. “I have come for my sons. Let us go in peace,” He gestured to the crowd behind him. “And these other people, and there will be no further trouble.”

“Denied,” the General said. “And as for your brats, they die with you.”

The words hit Oscar like a blow. His knees felt weak, and his stomach roiled as if he was about to vomit. “They haven’t done anything wrong,” he said.

“The Lord our God is a jealous God,” the General said, “visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.”

“It isn’t God telling you to murder children,” Oscar’s voice rose as he said it. At that moment, there was a soft chime. The General reached into the folds of the robe and produced a cell phone from his shirt pocket. He looked at the screen for a moment, then Oscar saw his face go blank with shock.

“Bad news?” he said.

“Be quiet,” one of the guards said, but he sounded uneasy, as if he too had noticed the look.

“Let me guess,” Oscar said. “Jack Keller has escaped.”

The General put the phone on the table in front of him. “And you can add conspiring to murder a law enforcement officer to the list of your crimes. Sheriff Cosgrove has been killed.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, then a murmur of conversation rippled through the room. “ORDER!” the General roared.

“General,” Oscar said, “if Jack Keller is out, he’s coming here. For all you know, he may already be here. And if he’s coming here, he’s coming for you. Trust me, that is the last thing you want. Just let us go. That’s all you need to do.”

Walker shook his head in amazement. “You people,” he said. “Too dumb to know when you’re beaten.” He gestured to Kinney. “Take them to the Justice Tree,” he said. “And the others. But bring chairs. We will carry out this execution the old-fashioned way. You,” he pointed at Bender. “Take two men. Reinforce the guard at the front gate.” He looked around. “Where is Corporal Loomis?”

The other guards looked around as well. No one answered. “Give me a radio,” Walker said. One of the guards handed him one. He put it to his ear, then stopped.

“Put them in position,” he told Kinney, “and wait for instructions.”

K
ELLER LOOKED
around the front of the building. After a moment, he pulled back.

“Goddamn it,” he breathed.

“What?” Castle said.

“They’ve got Oscar,” Keller said. “And I assume the ones with him are his sons. They’re standing on chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and nooses around their necks. The ropes are hanging from a big tree.”

“We need to move now,” Castle said.

“Where the hell is Posey?” Keller said.

“Mr. Keller,” Walker’s voice came through the radio they’d taken from Loomis. “Are you out there?”

K
ELLER LOOKED
at the radio for a moment, then raised it to his lips. “Yeah, Walker,” he said. “I’m here.”

“Why don’t you come out and join us?”

“I think it might have something to do with all of those guys with guns. Why don’t you tell them to put them away and maybe we can talk.”

“Why should I do that?” Walker said. “You came here to kill me, did you not?”

“No,” Keller said. “I came here to get my friend back. And his boys. But just so you know, I’m keeping that other option open.”

“So, I’m to believe that if I give you this brown scum and his sniveling little whelps, you’ll just walk away?”

“I only came here for one thing, Walker. I don’t give a fuck about you or anything else you do.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” Walker said. “Tell me, did you kill Sheriff Cosgrove? And his nigger deputy?”

Keller turned to Castle. “He’s trying to keep me talking.”

Castle nodded. “Yeah, I was about to bring that up.”

“Which means that he’s got someone out looking.”

“Maybe more than one,” Castle said.

“He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Or he’s pretending like he doesn’t.”

Keller raised the radio. “Yeah,” he said to Walker, “I hated to have to do it. But, you know, it is what it is.” He lowered the radio. “He wants me to go out there.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’ll try,” Keller said, “but he’ll want to make me watch my friend die first.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You may not have noticed, but the guy’s kind of an asshole.”

“I did notice that,” Castle said.

“He’s an egomaniac,” Keller said. “He loves to hear himself talk. He’s got to put on a show.”

“And this helps us how?”

“I get him going. Keep him talking. Meanwhile I get in close.”

“And then he kills your friend, and then his sons, and then you.”

“You won’t give him the chance.”

Castle shook his head. “Goddamn it,” he muttered. “I thought we weren’t going to bust in and start killing people.”

“I didn’t say that,” Keller said. “I said we’d try. But they’re going to kill Oscar and his sons if we just sit on our asses. Come on, Castle. You’re a cop. You gonna let that happen?”

Castle bristled. “Oh, do NOT play the cop card on me, Keller.”

The radio crackled. “You need to show yourself, Mr. Keller,” Walker said. “Before I become impatient.”

“Okay,” Keller said. “I’m coming out.”

“Unarmed.”

“Of course.” He leaned the M4 against the wall of the barracks and slid the bag of grenades off his shoulder. “Don’t leave me with my ass hanging out there, Castle,” he said. “I’m counting on you.” Without another word, he turned and walked out into the open from behind the building.

T
HE OFFICERS
manning the impromptu roadblock were confused, and confusion made them nervous. No one had heard from the Sheriff in hours, and now a man pretty much everyone in town regarded as a crazy hermit was out here, behind the wheel of a heavily armored police vehicle. They’d radioed the Highway Patrol for help, but no one knew when they’d get here, or what they could bring that would pierce the thick armored hide of the behemoth that sat squarely and stubbornly idling in the middle of State Road 1860.

“What the hell’s he up to?” A young deputy asked his older partner. The young deputy’s name was Irby, and at twenty-two, he was the youngest member of the department.

“Damned if I know, son,” Gillespie, the older deputy, said. “But this is the road that leads to that farm where that crazy white power church set up. Maybe Posey’s got some kinda grudge.”

Gillespie was sixty-two, the oldest deputy remaining on road duty. His few remaining hairs had gone to solid gray, and his bum knee was giving him fits every day. He just wanted to spend out his last few days before retirement in peace and quiet, and he did not need this shit from that nutcase Posey Cartwright.