Authors: John R. Maxim
A sigh, behind him.
“
Move the truck, you ass
.”
”I let you pass
,”
Darby protested,
“
you got no protection
.”
“
Compared to what? This? Move the goddamned truck
.”
Darby sagged. He leaned out the window and called i
nstructions. Two men appeared, moving cautiously. They
carried assault rifles. No suppr
e
ssors. One climbed into
the truck and released the hand brake. The truck coasted
backward. The rear wheels leapt a drainage culvert and
became mired. The other guard, keeping one hand raised,
touched a panel on one of the stone gateposts. A motor
whined. The gates swung open.
On
Weinberg's
signal, Darby drove forward. On an
other, he turned left, past several houses, then stopped.
We
in
berg adjusted the rea
rv
iew mirror. There was no sign
of pursuit. He prodded Darby, forcing him from the car.
He exited behind him.
“
Go home now
,”
he said.
“
Enjoy your life
.”
Darby glared, backing away.
“
Next time, wiseass, you
won't have that
.
.
.
”
Weinberg ignored him. He leaned toward the rear win
dow.
“
Gentlemen, remove your neckties, be comfortable.
Barbara, if you would drive, please, I
'
ll sit with our
friends
.”
“
If you hurt them
.
.
.
” Darby backed away farther.
Weinberg could only shake his head. The man was an
embarrassment.
Ten minutes later, Barbara driving, the Mercedes
picked up Route 101 at Montecito. They went one exit,
doubled
b
ack, then doubled back again. Satisfied that they
had not been followed, and that no one had waited to
intercept them, Barbara left the highway at Ca
r
pinteria
and began following signs pointing inland to the Casitas
Reservoir. It was an area of rolling hills, few houses, fre
quent brush fires. Ca
r
leton the younger noticed the signs.
“
Are we to be trussed and drowned
?”
he asked.
“
You'll have a good walk, that's all. Try to relax
.”
The elder Dunville let out a breath. His hands were
shaking.
“
In fairness to Darby
,”
said Weinberg,
“
there was not
a great deal he could have done. But you might talk
to
him about all that silly posturing
.”
Darby was the least of young Ca
r
leton's concerns.
“
You're really going to let us go
?”
he asked.
“
Yes
.”
Dunville drummed his fingers on his knee.
”
I would have let you go too, I think. But if you keep those files
there are people I must
.
.
.
alert. They will want you
hunted down
.”
“
If they find me
,”
said Weinberg,
“
I'll have something
to trade. I will soon, however
,
be the least of your
problems
.”
Dunville looked at him, thoughtfully.
“
You know who
did that to Hickey, don't you
.”
A nod.
“
If I'm right, you'll never know what hit you
.”
“
The girl's sister
?”
He seemed doubtful.
“
That little
redhead on the videotape
?”
That little redhead.
Weinberg chewed on the phrase. He chose not to enlarge on Ca
rl
a Benedict's credentials.
“
Then who was the man
?”
Dunville asked.
“
The man
found with Hickey
.”
If your man didn't kill him? Your worst nightmare.
“
No idea
.”
he said. Nor was there any point in men
tioning Ba
nn
e
r
man. To do so might take away his edge.
Weinberg had said just enough, he hoped, to have the
Dunvilles looking over their shoulders.
Young Ca
r
leton became thoughtful again.
“
On another
matter
,”
he drummed his fingers,
“
Luisa Ruiz. Is she
dead
?”
“
If she found my machine, very likely. Yes
.”
Dunville shook his head. He seemed saddened.
“
She was born there, wasn't she
?”
Weinberg asked.
“
In your baby farm
.”
“
Yes. By one of the guards
.”
“
And none of your special guests wanted her
?”
“
One man took her. Treated her very poorly. Then
returned her. He asked for one with better skin. What he
really wanted was a fresh one
.”
Weinberg heard anger not yet cooled. It was clearly
genuine.
“
How long had h
e
kept her
?”
he asked.
“
Four years. Until sh
e
was eight
.”
Dunville stared
ahead.
“
He
.
.
.
damaged her
,”
he said at last.
“
But she had
good qu
a
lities. She was a better person than you
know
.”
Weinberg glanced toward the rea
rv
iew mirror. He saw
Barbara's eyes looking back at him. He regretted raising
the subject.
“
Who is
he?”
his wife asked, her voice oddly flat.
“
Barbara…”
”I want to know. Who damaged her
?”
Dunville spread his hands.
“
It was twenty years ago.
It was not the first time or the last. But, whatever you may think, nothing like it ever happened again. Not on
my watch. Not until this thing with Henry. I would have
destroyed anyone who harmed one of our children
.”
Weinberg found that he believed him. He nudged the
father.
“
What about on
your
watch
?”
he asked.
Ca
r
leton the elder turned his head
.
His lips moved but
he seemed unable to speak. Barbara looked into the mirror,
first at hi
m
and then at his son. She felt, rather than saw,
disgust on young Carleton
’
s face. It answered her hus
band's question.
Weinberg leaned forward.
“
Take any of these dirt
roads
,”
he said. She took the next. Weinberg freed one
hand of its weapon and, gently, massaged the shoulder of
his wife. He looked down, and saw that her own hand
was entwined with Nellie's. Weinberg squeezed Nellie as
well. She turned her head and whispered something.
“
I'm sorry
,”
he said. ”I couldn't hear
.”
She turned. She stared, clear-eyed, at Carleton the elder.
“
He'll hurt my friends
,”
she said, her voice stronger.
“
Harland and the others
.
He'll hurt
,
the ones who
cheered
.”
“
He won't
,”
young Carleton promised. ”I won't let
him
.”
Wit
h
a flashlight found in the glove box, Barbara led
the Dunvilles from the car. She had taken the MP-5. Her
husband stayed with Nellie. He had taken the first aid kit
from the trunk.
She walked behind them, her flashlight searching fo
r
a
route that showed no sign of human traffic. They climbed
a low hill to its crest. Barbara stopped. Below, she could
see the Casitas Dam, marked by a necklace of lights and,
well beyond, the glow from the city of Ventura. To her
left, the leeward side of the hill sloped down into darkness. A sweep of her beam showed a dense thicket of chaparral.
Low dwarf oaks and thorny brush. A body might lie there
for years. She considered it. But her husband had told
them they would not be harmed.
Carleton the younger read her mind. Or part of it. He
trembled, hugging himself although the night was warm.
He looked up at the stars.
“
May I have a minute
?”
he
asked. He lowered himself. He sat.
The older Dunville turned ashen.
“
What?
Wait.
.
” He stared at Barbara, then at his son. He backed away from both.
“
You don't have to hurt me
,”
he sputtered.
“
You can be free. I can stop this
.”
“
Can he
?”
she asked his son.
He looked at his father. With contempt. ”I don't
know
,”
he answered.
“
Can you
?”
”
I don't think so. Not now
.”
“
He's wrong
.”
The elder Dunville stepped toward her.
“
No one has to know you have those files. Give me your
word that you won't use them and I'll see to it.”
The son looked away.
“
Can I believe him
?”
Barbara asked.
He shrugged.
“
Tell me what you would do
.”
Carleton the younger spread his hands.
“
I'd like to let
this go away, end here. But it can't. We don't know how
much Hickey said before he died. Or to whom, really. Too
many people are involved now. Outsiders. I think it's out
of control
.”
“
Then why don't you run? Choose a new life of
your own
.”
A rueful smile.
“
I've made agreements. I'll try to pro
tect them. But failing that
.
.
.
yes, I might run
.”
He sounded so tired, thought Barbara. It would almost
be a mercy to shoot him. But it would serve no purpose
otherwise. If these two men, and they alone, knew that
Axel and Bonnie St
r
eicher had been to Su
r
La Mer, that
they'd taken those files, that they'd taken Nellie Da
m
eon
who had seen and heard so much, the two surviving Dunvilles would have been dead already. But the entire staff
knew. The guards knew. They would tell that man who
called
...
the one who had gone to kill H
i
ckey
.
.
.
and
who might even be an alumnus himself. He would have to warn the others. Even if the Dunvilles could not.