CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
"Strange Brew"
A chill descended on the room. Muriel looked as if she'd never seen a black man before. Maybe she hadn't.
"Professor!" Ninja sang. "Are we there yet?"
He and Gregorio took the two stools to Beadles' left bringing a wave of Acqua Di Gio that washed gently over Beadles and Summer like a Caribbean surf. Ninja wore a black leather hoodie the texture of silk and carried a backpack. Gregorio wore a black leather sports jacket over a gray hoodie. A pair of shadows in a dark room.
The two old guys playing checkers packed up their game and left.
Muriel shook herself like a wet dog, pasted a smile on her puss and walked down the bar.
"What'll it be, fellas?"
Ninja squinted at the tap beer handles. "I'll have a…what is that? A Cactus Jack Ale? Gimme that."
"Dewars on the rocks," Gregorio growled.
Vern Weatherill reentered the bar and sat at a table.
Ninja leaned forward and leered at Summer. "Well lookie here! The professor got hisself a girlfriend! A fellow person - of - color like his own bad self, ain't that right, Gregorio?" He turned and nudged the big man with his elbow.
"Dat right," Gregorio growled.
Ninja turned back with a world-class shit-eating grin. "Dat right, Pocahantas! Professor tell you he was part Cherokee? Says so right on his job application to be a professor at Creighton University! Ain't that right, Prof?"
Summer regarded Beadles with shock.
"Don't believe them," he said.
"Oh we gots proof, don't we Gregorio? I can download the document rightchere on my laptop!" He swung his backpack onto the bar. It was black and featured the Punisher logo. Ninja threw his arm around Beadles' shoulders.
"Don't worry, Prof! We ain't here to jack you up! We're partners, remember?"
Muriel brought the drinks. Ninja held up his frosted glass.
"Drink up, Professor! We're gonna make history."
Beadles dutifully raised his mug and clinked, first with Ninja then Gregorio. They drank.
"So when are we going after the gold?" Gregorio rumbled.
Ninja's elbow shot out like a skeet launcher thumping Gregorio in the chest hard enough to make him grunt.
"What Gregorio means is," Ninja said, "when are we going to track down the remnants and ruminants of the Azuma Civilization? I'm talkin' history. We bout to make history."
"Not tonight," Beadles said. "In the morning."
"That's fine. Been a long day. Started out in St. Louis bout twenty hours ago." Ninja stood and stepped out to form a triangle with Beadles and Summer. "Hello you sweet thing. We ain't been properly introduced! Professor?"
"This is Ninja and that's Gregorio," Beadles said. "This is Summer."
Summer's mouth made a perfect 'o.' "You know these people?"
"Lordy, Lordy!" Ninja sang. "Know us? We're his sponsors! We the money behind the Great Scientific Expedition to Discover the Azuma. Ain't that right, Professor?"
"Ninja provides tech support," Beadles said. "He helped me locate the likely site with satellite technology."
"We far more than that," Ninja said. "Omma even buy you a decent motel room. We can't stay in that roach motel across the street. Whatever's out there has been out there for thousands of years. Ain't goin' nowhere. I say we all go back to Kayenta and check into the Hyatt. My treat."
Summer shuddered. "There's no way I'm going back to Kayenta. That motel's fine with me."
Beadles watched Weatherill in the mirror. The old man bristled when Ninja said roach motel. Muriel winked at Weatherill.
"You go on if you want," Ninja said. "You'll miss the good part. Professor, you come with us. Got plenty of room in my donk."
"Mr. Weatherill," Beadles said. "You got a vacancy for me?"
"I sure do, son. If you boys are lookin' for roaches you're shit outta luck."
Beadles smiled at Ninja. "Mr. Weatherill owns the motel across the street."
Ninja held out his palms fingers up. "Excuse me Mr. Weatherill! I did not mean to besmirch the reputation of your fine establishment. It's just that Gregorio and me have become accustomed to a certain level of luxury, you know what I'm sayin'?"
"Apology accepted. Might even find a couple rooms for you boys if you're interested."
"Well let me and Gregorio think on that. Maybe later we'll take a look."
Beadles figured that Ninja had planted a transmitter in his Jeep while he'd been sleeping. Stupid! Now they were here and he had to deal with it. There was no reason to involve Summer. But he liked her. He felt a mutual attraction. Maybe it was just little Vaughan rearing his ugly head.
Ninja resumed his stool and removed a paper-thin laptop from his backpack. He opened it on the bar. "Zis here a wi-fi hot spot?" he asked Muriel.
"'Fraid not, hon."
"Tha's okay. I got what I need rightchere." He poked and stroked. A map came up. He turned the softly glowing panel toward Beadles.
"This here Gap," he said, using a soda straw to point at a brick-shaped cluster on an aerial photograph. He moved the straw. "And this here the center of whatever it is we're lookin' for. Sixty-two miles but ain't no roads. May need that old Jeep of yours. Me and Gregorio bought some shit at REI. We ready. Figure in and out in one day. We transport the, ah, artifacts straight back to Keyanta and divvy it up there. Howzat sound?"
Beadles just looked at him.
"What?"
"I'm sorry," Beadles said, "but if you haven't worked an archaeological dig you'd just be in the way."
Ninja's smile fell like a man from a scaffold. "Well I'm sorry but we're comin'."
"Have either of you ever worked in the desert before?" Beadles said.
"Do two tours in Afghanistan count?" Gregorio said staring into his Scotch.
It went without saying that Ninja, and even moreso Gregorio presented a physical challenge. Beadles' black belt meant little. He was a holy terror faced with lawyers and accountants. He might be able to take out Ninja but no way could he stop a bulldozer like Gregorio. Not without a gun. He regretted not bringing one.
Stupid! What was he going to do with a gun? Get in a shootout at the Last Chance Saloon? There was no way he could keep them from accompanying him, not without giving them the slip. And what was to stop them from murdering him in the desert once they found the gold?
If there was any gold.
The whole thing seemed ridiculous. His life tottered like a house of cards. A great weariness crept up on him. Whatever made him think he could be a star of academe, much less media? He produced nothing, he provided no valuable service. His one conceit was an obscure anthropological footnote. So he discovered a new tribe, so what? Whoop de do! It wouldn't save any children from the pox or provide shelter for the homeless or clean water for slum dwellers in Sao Paulo and Ghana.
A deep sense of useless and futility came over him. Squabbling with two gang bangers in a bar over "buried treasure." Like one of those cheap tabloid magazines that touted the Lost Dutchman, classifieds filled with metal detectors. Pathetic. Magical thinking. And two sharp inner city operators had bought in. Bought in so heavily they couldn't let go.
It was funny. Beadles was thinking of giving up but Ninja and Gregorio wouldn't let him.
Ninja touched him on the shoulder. "Get your stuff, Prof. You're coming with us."
"No I'm not."
Ninja smirked at Gregorio. Gregorio got up and loomed over Beadles. The front door opened. In walked a tall man in a cowboy hat.
***
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
"The Unwelcome Patron"
Summer turned white and touched Beadles' wrist. "That's him," she half whispered, half-croaked. "That's Vince."
Vince paused inside the entryway, stuck his thumbs in his belt and looked around. He wore a belt buckle the size of a dinner plate, tooled snakeskin boots and a black nylon windbreaker which hung loosely from his frame. His gaze swept by the three men unimpressed.
"Where's my car, you bitch?!" he declared striding up to Summer. "Honey," he said to Muriel. "Give me a shot of Jack and a draft back."
Ninja fronted him. "Who the fuck are you?"
Vince looked bored as he placed his palm against Ninja's chest and shoved the smaller man to the floor. Gregorio got off his stool. Vince stepped out.
"You better think twice before you make your next move, Holmes."
Gregorio stopped, glaring. "Best you splain yourself."
Ninja got up and stood slightly behind Gregorio.
"I don't got to explain shit," Vince said. "It's none of your fucking business. But since I'm feeling in a charitable mood, this here bitch used to be my girlfriend until she slipped me a mickey and stole my brand new Camaro Z-1. I want it back. What's so hard to understand about that?"
"I sold it, Vince," Summer said unconsciously leaning toward Beadles.
Vince grinned and looked around. "Now why ain't I surprised? I knew you were gonna say that."
Beadles watched Weatherill quietly take out his cell phone and move to an end booth. Muriel stood by the cash register, hands beneath the bar.
"How much you get for it?"
"Less than you paid for it."
Ninja said, "Why don't you take your sorry hillbilly ass outta here while you can still walk? You think we're playin'?"
Vince looked from Ninja to Summer with mock surprise. "What the fuck, girl. You bangin' the whole bunch? I mean, what's your interest in this woman? You gonna turn her out I might be able to give you some advice."
Gregorio stepped up like a weigh-in face-off. "We turnin' you out."
Vince lowered his head and butted Gregorio savagely on the bridge of the nose. The big man stumbled back. Ninja tried to kick Vince in the nuts but Vince turned a thigh, scooped Ninja's kick up into the air landing the hacker on his ass. Gregorio picked up a bar stool and brought it around like a billy club. Vince ducked under it and took Gregorio to the ground. There was a furious scramble. Vince ended up on top and rained down blows. Ninja grabbed the bar stool and brought it down with both hands on Vince's head. The hard wood seat bounced with a bonk. Vince looked dazed.
Beadles didn't know whether to run or join in. He looked at Muriel. "Call the cops."
"I called the sheriff," Vern Weatherill said, "but might be awhile. Muriel, where's that scatter gun?"
Muriel reached beneath the bar and brought out a Remington twelve gauge with a pistol grip. The sound of a her ratcheting a shell into the chamber caused the combatants to freeze.
"Get up and get back!" she barked. "Christ almighty, you don't go causin' a ruckus in my establishment!"
Rubbing the back of his head Vince got off the battered Gregorio and stood. Gregorio got up and returned to the bar where he laid an elbow on Ninja's backpack. Beadles had a split-second adumbration of the inevitable. Gregorio pulled out a .357 magnum with a nine inch barrel but he wasn't fast enough. A .45 appeared in Vince's hands and barked deafening everyone. Gregorio's head snapped back as brain and blood splattered against the mirror. It ran down the mirror in driblets. The automatic swung on the white-faced Muriel who had forgotten the shotgun on the bar.
"Back off the gun," Vince shouted to hear himself over the tinnitus. Beadles knew what he said from watching his lips. Her mouth a lipless slash, Muriel backed into the bottles causing them to clink. Vince strode up, grabbed the shotgun by the barrel and tucked it under his arm. He shoved the .45 into the windbreaker's pocket and ratcheted the pump-action, ejecting a shell and bringing another into the chamber. He grinned.
"You all saw it. Nigger tried to draw down on me. It was self defense." He turned to Summer. "Let's go sweety pie. You and me got lots to talk about."
Beadles stood causing Vince to stare at him with exagerrated wonder. "What? What are you gonna do about it tough guy?"
"Self-defense is one thing," Beadles said. "Kidnapping's something else."
Vince bit his lip. He pulled the auto from his pocket and held a gun in each hand. "You got a point." Vince quickly glanced around.
An icicle piercing his chest Beadles realized Vince was figuring the odds of killing everyone in the bar.
Weatherill was gone.
"What happened to the motel guy?" Vince said.
The door banged open admitting a big gun followed by a man hunkered down in a sheepskin coat with a badge wearing a white cowboy hat.
"Drop the weapons! Get down on the floor!"
Beadles watched Vince weigh his odds and in the split second Vince took his eyes off the patrons Beadles scooped up his bar stool and swung it like a Louisville Slugger into Vince's head. Vince staggered. The sheriff ran forward and clubbed him behind the ear with the barrel of his automatic. Vince sank to his knees and dropped the guns.
The sheriff got behind him and kicked Vince between the shoulder blades so he went down face first on the hardwood floor.
***
CHAPTER FIFTY
"Ongoing Investigation"
The sheriff planted a knee in the center of Vince's back and got the cuffs on. He removed Vince's wallet, stood, stuck the toe of his boot beneath Vince's shoulder and said, "Turn over."
Vince turned over..
"Sit up," the sheriff said.
Vince sat up. The sheriff took in the scene, starting with Gregorio, slumped on the floor next to the bar, a red hole in the middle of his forehead.
"Who shot him and with what?"
"It was that guy on the floor, Rupe," Muriel said. "The black dude pulled a gun outta that backback but Slick there was too fast for him."
The room smelled of cordite. Beadles' hearing was almost back to normal. The door swung open and Vern came in.
The sheriff walked to a booth and tore a napkin out of the holder. He stooped and picked up Vince's discarded automatic by the trigger guard. "Are you telling me it was self-defense?"
Muriel shrugged. "You could call it that. Slick there was being mighty aggressive."
"Muriel, would you bring me a couple plastic bags? Folks, I'm Sheriff Rupert Conway. We're a little understaffed on accounta a big pile-up out to the highway so I'm all there is tonight. Now ahmina have to talk to each of you one by one to figure out what the hell happened. I surely would appreciate it if you all cooperate."
Conway turned to Vince. "You got any nasty surprises in your pockets? Any needles or razor blades or shit like that?"
"No," Vince sighed like he'd been through this before.
"Stand up."
Vince got to his feet. The Sheriff went through his pockets removing a fat wad of cash in a gold clip, a wallet thick with cash and credit cards, not all Vince's, some change and a folding knife. The Sheriff walked Vince over to a booth and sat him down.
"Don't move," he said.
"Vern call you?" Muriel said.
"Ahuh. Who should I start with?"
"Well nothing was happening 'til those two black gentlemen came in here looking for this here fella." She indicated Beadles. "They called him Professor. Something about gold out on the shifting sands, damn fools."
Conway rounded on Beadles. "May I see some identification?"
Beadles produced his Illinois driver's license. Muriel returned with a box of large ziplock bags into which the sheriff dropped the automatic and the contents of Vince's pockets.
"What are you doing here, Mr. Beadles?"
"I'm a professor of anthropology. I'm looking for ruins."
Conway turned to Ninja. "ID, son?"
Silent now, Ninja produced his driver's license. Conway looked from Ninja to Beadles and back. "What you doing out here?"
"I'm with the professor," Ninja said.
The sheriff turned to Beadles.
"Mr. Preston provided invaluable technical assistance but now he wants to come on the dig. And as I explained, you can't have amateurs on a dig."
"Ahuh," the sheriff said, stooping next to Gregorio and retrieving his wallet from inside the black leather jacket. The sheriff flipped it open and looked. "Gregorio Haines, St. Louis."
"Me and him were helping the professor," Ninja said. "We're his tech support."
"But he says he doesn't want you here, Mr. Preston," the sheriff said.
"You need some help you can deputize me, Rupe," Weatherill said.
The sheriff thought about it. "I appreciate that, Vern. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna put Mr…" He removed Vince's wallet from the ziplock and flipped it open. "Mr. Sealy here in the back of my car, then I'm gonna come back in here and get a quick statement from each of you people. Then I'm gonna ask you to wait here for other officers. Om get someone out here as soon as we can free 'em up."
The sheriff put a hand beneath Vince's arm. "Let's go."
Vince stood. The sheriff scooped up Vern's cowboy hat, planted it on his head and steered him out the door. The room was dead silent. Beadles and Summer looked at each other and saw the same things: fear and hope.
"This is bullshit," Ninja said. "Ohmma call my lawyer, Mr. Arthur Feldstein. I don't know nothin' 'bout that gun."
Beadles refrained from mentioning it appeared to be Ninja's backpack. As far as he was concerned he didn't see a thing. He just wanted out.
Ninja took out his cellphone and walked to the end booth. Weatherill picked up Muriel's shotgun off the floor and set it on the bar. "I called 911 bout five minutes after those two gentlemen came in. I just knew there was going to be trouble."
"'Cause they were colored, right?" Summer said.
Weatherill feigned indignation. "Not at all! They just looked like trouble."
Muriel poured herself a shot of Jack, looked around. "Who else wants one?"
Summer, Weatherill and Beadles raised their hands. Muriel poured shots. Ninja was still on the phone to his lawyer. The sheriff came back in. His eyes took in the drinks and his mouth twitched a little.
"Folks, looks like they won't get anyone out here for hours. Ahmina have to ask you all to stay here for the night so we can ask questions in the morning. Where's that other fella?"
Ninja stuck his head out of the booth still on the phone. The sheriff motioned him over. Ninja said something, hung up and complied.
"Need you to stay put for the night so you'll be here when the other deputies arrive. Anybody got a problem with that?"
"We under arrest?" Ninja said.
"No but this is an ongoing investigation. I'm asking you as a courtesy."
"Sure, no prob, officer," Ninja said. "Guess I'll be looking at your rooms after all, Mr. Motel Man."
The sheriff stared at him a beat before nodding. The sheriff scooped up the Punisher back-pack. "I'm taking this as evidence."
Ninja swallowed.
One by one Conway took them to the corner booth and asked them what happened, making notes in a spiral pad. He questioned Beadles last.
Beadles faced the sheriff in the darkened booth. The sheriff smelled of sage. He removed a card from his breast pocket and slid it across the table. Beadles took it.
"Like I said, I'm out here looking for ancient ruins. I was let go from my university position two weeks ago. You might as well know, they accused me of stealing some artifacts and I agreed to resign to avoid prosecution."
The sheriff stared at him from beneath hedgerow brows.
"I was framed. I can't prove anything, but if I were a thief, would I be out here in the middle of nowhere searching for ruins?"
The sheriff shrugged. "Maybe your an antiquities thief. Seen a few."
Beadles smiled mirthlessly. "Of course." He explained how he'd met Ninja and asked for his help. "They must have planted a transmitter in my vehicle. I was opposed to their coming."
The sheriff made notes and looked at Beadles skeptically.
"No doubt." He closed the notepad and eased out of the booth. He turned to the room. "See you folks tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation."
Muriel pointed to the corpse. "You ain't gonna just leave it there?!"
The sheriff looked at the corpse. "Yes I am. Keep the air conditioning on."
***