This time the man said nothing. He still panted.
Rader said, ‘Stop for a moment and we’ll talk, face to face. You’re in charge, correct?’
‘You notice that?’
‘It was obvious back in the car. I didn’t want to say it in front of them.’
‘All right, stop.’
Rader took another step and then turned round. The man, inches above him on the slope, was holding the gun at Rader’s chest.
‘I got here this afternoon. I have no connection to this town or to anybody in it,’ Rader said.
‘The same bullshit.’ He wiped his brow.
‘That’s what your friends think, maybe. But I’m telling you, if you’re gonna kill a guy it better be for the right reasons,’ Rader said. ‘And I’m not the guy you’re looking for—if he even exists.’
The man didn’t talk. The gun wavered. He kept looking at Rader, and then, wiping his brow again, he said: ‘You’re working for him—’
‘No.’
‘You’re connected to that place.’
Rader said, ‘I’m not connected to anybody, anywhere.’
The man thrust the gun out now. He kept panting, kept wiping his brow. ‘Get on your knees.’
Rader said, ‘What are you doing out here? You think I’m working for Skylar?’
‘Down,’ the man said.
Rader began slowly to lower himself. He lifted his arms, a few inches at first, then faster. He kept his eyes on the gun. Lower now, looking up at the man, he ducked to the side, grabbing his wrist. The gun dropped and both men tumbled on the slope, the guy yelling until Rader clasped a hand over his throat, and squeezed. The guy flailed his arms, smashing Rader’s back, legs kicking. Then Rader felt it, a blade raking his side. The tip piercing, turning, jabbing. Rader brought up his other arm, both hands on his jaw, and made a sharp, snapping twist. He twisted again, harder, then thudded his head off the stony ground.
A shallow breath met Rader’s face and the man lay still.
Rader crawled free, and got up, dabbing his side with a handkerchief.
‘And that’s the smart one of the three,’ he said.
Rader found the gun, and a switchblade. He rifled in the man’s pockets; just a wallet and the car key. Rader didn’t give a damn about this guy’s identity. He removed a few twenties, kept the car key, and set off back up the slope until he could almost pick out the lights of distant houses. Maybe it was houses down there, or maybe it was the headlamps of a few cars. For twenty paces he walked to the side until he was far left of the two men standing by the Merc. Rader approached, holding the gun. He was already thinking about a guy he knew in Ohio who ran a business with a blast furnace. Then he had a better idea.
‘Fat guy,’ he said.
Both of them stared across at him. Mickey reached to his jacket.
‘Hands away from there,’ Rader said, cocking the hammer on the gun and walking over. ‘Get your hands up. Now, don’t make any move at all.’
‘What’d you do to him?’ Mickey said. ‘Butch, what’d he do?’
The other man just glared.
Mickey said, ‘Where is he?’
‘He got stupid,’ Rader said. ‘He had a chance and he didn’t take it. We understand each other?’
Nothing.
Rader said: ‘Well?’
Both began to nod.
‘Good,’ Rader said, patting them down, removing a gun from each. ‘Now what are you doing in Torrent City?’
Silence, then Butch said, ‘We got something with the hotel guy.’
‘Oh yeah? What would that be?’
‘Fuck you,’ Butch said.
Another car moved down the road, it’s headlamps glowing in the far distance. Rader watched until it pulled in by the houses, and the lights died.
Rader said, ‘You got something with him—what would it be? What’s the problem?’
Butch was chewing the edge of his lip. Tall and lean, he had gaunt features and a fringe of dark hair that ran straight from end to end, inches above his eyebrows.
He said, ‘I lost my job when he closed the old place. Guess I wasn’t good enough for anything more than that shit hole. I asked, like a lot of us did, for a shot at the new hotel. He made me beg, even though he already had those positions filled by guys from outta town. That goes for both of us.’ He glanced at the fat guy, before his eyes swiveled back to Rader. ‘Anything else?’
‘What were you planning to do to him? You were gonna rob him, sure. And were you gonna kill him—was that it?’
He didn’t blink much, just kept staring at Rader. ‘I already said fuck you. You heard that, right? Well it still fuckin’ applies.’
Rader said, gesturing with the gun, ‘Let’s take a walk.’
‘What?’ Mickey said. ‘Where to?’
‘Back to meet your friend.’ Another wave with the gun. ‘Both of you get ahead of me, and hurry it up. It’s a long way.’
They started walking, Rader just behind. He felt the weight of both guns in his jacket pockets.
Mickey looked back once, panting. ‘How much more do we gotta walk?’
‘I’ll tell you when to stop,’ Rader said.
‘This is fuckin’ torture right here. I can’t breathe in this air.’
‘Shaddap,’ Butch said.
‘So I can’t even fuckin’ express myself now? Huh? Is that where it’s at?’
‘I said, shaddap.’
They reached the top of the slope, and started down. Mickey stumbled after the first step and began to roll. Except he didn’t roll fast, he moved in gradations. Rader walked alongside Butch and watched Mickey turning over on the grass, yelping. He came to rest a few feet from the driver, who was lying on his back. Mickey reached out, touched him and yelled.
‘Holy fuckin’ shit.’
‘You killed him,’ Butch said.
Mickey was getting back up, breathing heavily.
‘That dumb-ass blond,’ he said. ‘She caused this.’
‘Shaddap.’
‘The fuckin’ skank caused all this. All of it. I told him not to trust her. I told both of yous. And you don’t fuckin’ listen.’
Rader stood back, watching him pant and grunt. Butch glaring at him, breathing hard.
Mickey turned away, retching.
Rader held the gun in Butch’s face. ‘Talk,’ he said, ‘or you’re next.’
Another tight-lipped look at Mickey. Still doubled, retching, he said: ‘There was a girl, okay, like he just said. She don’t mean nothin’. The whole thing, it means nothin’. None of it. Just a big fuckin’ sorry. Now let’s leave it that way and, you know, do whatever it is that’s on your mind, and let that be an end to it.’
Rader held the gun to his forehead. ‘Talk,’ he said.
Slowly his hands went up. He stared at Rader. Mickey, behind him, was on one knee, drawing in air and blinking away moisture.
‘She was no good,’ Butch said. ‘She was a klutz. We got in with her, with her four friends. It was an alliance, sort of. That’s all it was. They had their money-making plans, we had ours. Dollars, see? She said she knew about some of Skylar’s people—that they were on the lookout for guys just like us. She was supposed to be the filter. You entered her orbit somehow. She’s a suspicious lady, got her eyes open.’ He swallowed, kept staring. ‘You wanna, eh, get that thing outta my face?’