Gus laughed. "Well, good for you, Mr. Cole."
Jack wasn't laughing. "I'll shoot you down if you don't."
I tried for a casual shrug, wasn't too sure if I achieved it.
"Maybe you will. And then what? You shoot me down and then Gus is out a mule, and then you'll have to put the damn money in the bag yourself. So save yourself a pull of the trigger and a kick of the shoulder. Do it yourself."
Jack stared at me. "Your last chance."
"For all that talk you gave me about being part of a noble generation, of not being appreciated for all that you've done, you sure are a cold-hearted bastard. Not much of a memory there, right? Or did you forget how I helped you out that day in the museum, when you were all by yourself? Or was that all part of the cover all these years, pretending to be a noble veteran, and just being a noble thief?”
He kept that cold stare, started moving the shotgun up to his shoulder, until Gus broke in. "Oh, for Christ's sake, I'll do it. Lewis, untwist your panties. Jack, let up on the trigger finger. I'll take care of it."
I kept my own look at Jack, and he gave a crisp nod. Gus flopped open the canvas bag and started tossing in the bundles of hundreds, one right after another. "Lot of money here," Gus observed, as the bag started to bulge from all the hundred-dollar bills being stacked inside. "You got any grand plans? Gonna get some new teeth? A new truck? A new house?"
"All that and more," Jack said, looking at the money with hunger in his eyes. "All that and more. You just keep on shoving it
in." "Sure," Gus said. "Hey, one more thing."
What's that?" Jack asked.
"You want to make sure I'm not cheating you, right?" Gus juggled one of the bundles in his hand. "You'd hate to see that it's just one hundred-dollar bill on the top and bottom and green paper in the center. Right?"
"Well, shit, yes," Jack said.
"So, here you go," Gus said, "check it yourself."
With that, Gus tossed the bundle of bills at Jack. Everything seemed to move as if we were all in amber. The bundle rolled end over end, and Jack looked almost pleased with himself as he reached up to catch the money. His eyes were on the money, were on the bundle of Ben Franklins, but I kept looking at Gus, Gus whose hand flew back into the case and came out with a revolver.
Chapter Twenty
I fell to the ground as Gus fired and didn't see what happened next, though I sure as hell heard it. There was a teeth-rattling boom as Jack fired his shotgun, and then another two sharp reports, as Gus returned fire. I rolled on my back and got up and started to think of sprinting away, when Gus called out, "You stay right there, Cole. Right fucking there."
I slowly turned. There was hazy smoke in the air. Gus got up from a combat crouch, lowered his revolver. Jack was sprawled against the near concrete wall, head lowered, chest splotched with blood. The shotgun was on the floor next to him. I rubbed at my eyes, looked over again at Gus. He smiled.
"Jeez, that was fucking close," he said.
I took a deep breath. "How in the world did you ever get through the psych testing for your job?"
"Just lucky, I guess," he said. "Looky there, up on the ceiling."
I did just that, saw fresh marks on the dirty cement ceiling.
“Not even a ricochet?”
“Nope, not even a ricochet. Think about that. A couple of dozen shotgun pellets go overhead, and not a single one hits me. Guess this really is my lucky day, huh?”
I looked over again at Jack, lying there still. "The day's not over yet," I said.
"Well, it's close enough. C'mon, you've got work to do. Start loading up that handcart, and let's get the canisters out of here. Seeing that old fart there is spooking the shit out of me. Get a move on."
I thought of how bravely I had stood up to Jack a few minutes ago, and how that bravery had melted away with the second murder I had witnessed on this dark evening.
I shook my head and headed into the little room, started packing up the canisters. No time for bravery. No time for action. Just enough time to stay alive as long as I could.
As I worked, I think Gus noted the glances I was sending to the shotgun on the floor, and with a smile he picked it up and casually placed it in the far corner. It was hard work, putting the canisters up on the handcart, and I took a moment to catch my breath. Gus was putting the money back into the open case, and I said, "That sure was some planning. What would you have done if Jack hadn't asked for one of us to unpack the money?"
Gus said, "Then he would have gotten a free revolver, that's what. Besides, I had another revolver in the detection case. I was going to pull a similar stunt before he left. No offense, but not having to spend that money on Jack will mean a lot more months of fun for me in Brazil. I thought I could use it better than he could."
"And where did you get a million dollars?"
He grinned as he snapped the case shut, still holding the revolver in a free hand. "Trade secrets, Lewis. That's all. You gonna finish up in there?"
"Sure," I said, grabbing one of the last canisters and putting it down on the handcart. "Helicopter, right?"
Gus stopped on his way to the other black case. "Huh?" "Helicopter. There's no way you're going out of here putting this stuff in the rear of the LTD and just driving away. Nope. And there's no harbor close enough for a boat pickup. You must have a helicopter around here. Somebody waiting for a pickup, or a signal from you. A radio concealed in the case that had the detecting equipment. Libyans?
"Nope," Gus said, snapping the cover shut of the instrument case. "Ex-French Foreign Legion. Having a couple of guys hanging around at a small airport who speak with a French accent is easier to explain than having those guys speak with an Arabic accent. Plus, they're easy to hire. They don't rightly care what they're doing as long as they get paid for it. A nice philosophy. Ready to move out?"
"Move out where?" I asked. "Where else? The way we came in."
I tried to see if he was joking, and failed. "Did you keep track of how we came in?"
"Didn't have to," he said. "We got lights now, don't we?
We'll just get a move on. C'mon, I don't have time to waste."
My hands and arms ached, and I was terribly thirsty. I was also terribly aware of how this evening was going to end for me, and decided that arguing with Gus wouldn't buy me anything, except a quicker end to things.
"Okay," I said, grabbing the twin handles of the handcart. "You're the boss."
Gus swung both black cases onto the top of the uranium canisters. "That's the nicest thing you've said all night."
I leaned in and pushed, and the weight of the uranium and the two cases made it slow going. But the handcart was fairly new and the wheels seemed well-lubricated, and after I got it started, it moved well. I tried not to look at the still form of Jack as we headed away from the small storage room. Gus stayed right behind me as we moved down the corridor, brushing aside empty beer and soda cans. When we came out to the large center room, I let the handcart roll to a stop.
"Where to?" I asked. "We've got six corridors to choose from."
"That one," Gus said, indicating the closest one.
You sure?"
"Who gives a fuck?" he said. "There's only six. Process of elimination. C’mon, doggy, get a move on.”
I dug in with my feet, and the cart slowly started rolling. I thought about asking Gus again about why he was doing this when he knew that he was helping a government gain a nuclear device, a government with a unique view of the world and its place in it. A government that every now and then declared war on the rest of the world. A government that was now going to have a weapon that could kill tens of thousands in seconds. A hell of a thing to do. I still wondered how Gus could be doing what he was doing.
But I was too tired to ask anything. I just bowed down and
kept pushing down the corridor, and after a couple of minutes I realized it was getting harder and harder to see. I raised my head and looked back, where Gus was silhouetted in the lights coming from the large center room. I let the handcart roll to a stop again.
Gus came up to me. "What's the problem?"
"The problem is that we're running out of light. Look, the corridor must curve. See how dim it's getting? We keep on going like this and we're going to be in darkness again."
"Well, I guess we'll have to keep on ---"
I interrupted, "Look, you idiot, I keep on pushing your precious cargo down this corridor without any lights, and I may drop it down a hole. Or I might get stuck in a rough patch. And how will that affect your schedule?"
I could sense what was going on in Gus's mind, knowing the pressures that were starting to bear inside him. I rubbed my hands, trying to ease the muscle cramps.
Gus said, "Okay, it makes sense. Turn this rig around and let's head back. I've got an idea."
I was going to say something snappy in reply, but remembering Clem's and Jack's fates, decided against it.
It seemed like a week of steady pushing before we were back in the circular room, and Jack said, "Come along and leave the cart here. I want to check something out."
He motioned me to the short corridor where we had just been, and I started heading in. Gus came up behind me and said, "We're going to take another look at poor dead Jack."
I stopped and turned. "Excuse me?"
The pistol was back in Gus’s hand. “You heard me. I can’t believe the old man didn't come in here without a flashlight or a lighter or matches. You're going to take a look. If he's got a flashlight, fine. If he's got matches or a lighter, then we can make a torch or something."
"You want I should take his rings and gold teeth while we're at it?" I asked.
"Hah, hah," he said, with no humor in his voice. "Get going, before I decide I can do this whole thing by myself."
I looked at his face, memorizing the expression, the anger and dead look in his eyes, and I turned around and resumed walking. I got back into the room and then looked back at Gus, a smile suddenly erupting on my face. "Tell you what: Was this part of your plan?"
Gus looked shocked, and I could hardly blame him. For Jack was gone, and so was his shotgun.
Gus elbowed past me, looked into the small room. Empty.
He turned on me in a fury. "Where the hell is he? Where in hell did he go?"
I kept silent, just enjoying this little drama play itself out for as long as I could.
"Well?" he demanded.
I said, "As I mentioned before, you're the boss. What do you think, I snuck him out in one of the canisters?"
He shoved the pistol into my ribs. "Now. Back to the uranium."
I walked at a quick pace down the corridor, past the empty cans and trash of the current generation showing its appreciation to an earlier generation for its service. When we came out, there was Jack, stumbling out of one of the side corridors, one hand held against his chest, the other dragging the shotgun by its wooden stock, heading over to the collections of batteries and instruments that controlled the lights. Darkness. I knew what he was planning. Darkness, his only chance.
1 moved left and Gus moved right, and Jack turned, raised the shotgun, but Gus was quicker, firing off two shots. I couldn’t tell if they struck home, but Jack did fall down, sitting back up against the batteries. Gus ducked and took cover behind the handcart. I froze, out in the open, as Jack coughed blood and looked over at me. The shotgun in I his hands wavered, then started drifting over in my direction. I was exposed --- no cover, no weapon, nothing at all.
Jack stared at me. Whispered something. I think he said "Thanks." I wasn't sure.
Then the shotgun moved around to the direction of the handcart, and he fired off another round. Gus returned fire and Jack's head snapped back. No doubt he was dead now, no doubt at all, and he fell to the side, right against the batteries, and once again we were plunged into darkness.
"Lewis?" came Gus's voice. "You over there?"
I started crawling away, knowing this was my chance, my only chance.
"Lewis, say something, or I'll start shooting." I heard clicking noises as he reloaded his revolver. "I can hear movement over there. One lucky shot on my part, and you're a dead man. Speak up. You're closer to Jack than I am. You can get the power up and running if you can crawl over there. Do that and we'll see what we can do. Lewis?"
I froze, knowing he was right, knowing he could hear things, but damn it, this was as good as it was going to get. I wasn't going to give him any satisfaction. Let him sit there and stew.
But Gus had other plans.
"Hey, Lewis," he called out. "You say something, right now. Or I'll turn on the lights myself, and when you pop up it'll be over, real quick. Last chance."
I started crawling, moving one agonizing foot at a time, and I really thought I could make it. I could hear Gus moving about, knowing he was heading over to where Jack's body was lying, over the power supply. Get a move on, I thought. Get a move on and we can be down one of these corridors; and then options, lots of options.