Adios Angel (22 page)

A nearly
translucent moon was rising in the eastern sky.  Sunlight was lessening more
quickly than was ideal for tracking purposes.  Josh surveyed the area with his
binoculars.

“We’ve got
forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, until darkness plays a huge factor.  We need
to keep moving, but we have to be careful.  Let’s roll.”

Moving
through the desert undergrowth in sparse light proved much easier than Kate had
imagined.  Following Josh’s lead they moved as if a single person.  At three
minute intervals he directed her with hand signals to stop and listen.  Josh
shined the directed light of a laser flashlight ahead and motioned for Kate to
have a look.  A mother skunk, teaching her children how to survive and hunt in
the night, stared disdainfully at them.  Another quarter mile on, Kate and Josh
halted simultaneously.  Ahead, around a corner in a small box canyon, a muted
noise came drifting through the darkness.  As they moved closer the shrill
sound of satanic laughter became hauntingly clear.

“We’ll move
up along the base of the canyon wall,” whispered Josh.  “Stay low.  When we get
to the outcropping, stay put.  I’ll move ahead, see what’s going on.”

Deputy
Steele knew Josh could see the slight nod of her head as dusk crept over them.

“Make sure
you are feeling everything with your feet.  I do not want anything to give us
away now.”

It was a
point well taken.  Josh suddenly signaled her to stay put.  He sneaked away
from the protection of the canyon wall, sliding into the underbrush on his
stomach using his elbows to propel himself forward.  She watched as he
noiselessly disappeared into the desert underbrush.  She was amazed that even
one arm in a cast didn’t deter him from his mission.

The quiet
desert air carried every sound from the canyon to Kate’s sharpened ears.  Words
suddenly became clear.  One man with a deep voice was speaking.  The gringo
accent made her certain it was Jimmie Joe.  His voice became clearer as the
anger in his voice increased. 

“Fool.  You
should never have followed me.” 

“You killed
Juanita.”  Ángel’s voice was full of defiance, hatred and anger.

“Yes,”
taunted Jimmie Joe.  “Yes I killed your lovely Juanita.  Her throat crushed as
easily as a hummingbird’s.” 

Ángel
vomited.

“Do you want
to know what her last words were?  She begged me not to kill you.  She pleaded
for your life to be spared as I was taking hers.  Oh, she was loyal to you,
muchacha.  Very soon that loyalty will be rewarded when you join her in hell.” 

Deputy
Steele gasped quietly as Josh slithered out from beneath the undergrowth not
three feet from her. 

“We got
ourselves a bad situation,” he whispered.  “We are going to have to move fast. 
Jimmie Joe has the kid tied to small tree.  He is ranting and raving and
telling Ángel how he killed his girlfriend.  It sounds like he broke her neck
and torched her.”

“What
exactly do you think Jimmie Joe has in mind?” asked Deputy Steele.  “Torture?”

“Whatever it
is, it isn’t good. Looks like he’s pistol-whipped Ángel. He has taken the blood
from Ángel’s wound and used it to paint a bulls-eye on his face, another on his
chest and one near each arm.  I don’t know how quickly this guy likes to kill
or how much of the Marquis de Sade he’s got in him, but I would say Ángel’s
life could be measured in heartbeats not minutes, unless we move fast.”

“We’d better
get going.”

“We’ve got a
second problem.  Zeb is directly opposite us.  We don’t want anyone to get
caught in crossfire.”

Kate checked
her weapon. 

“How far do
I have to move out from here before I can get a clear look at things?” she
asked.

“Fifty feet
out and you will be dead center of the small canyon.  The small tree he’s got
the kid tied to is about fifteen feet away from the canyon wall.  It will be on
your left.  Your shooting distance will be seventy-five, give or take a few
feet.  Zeb is less than one hundred feet directly opposite us and behind the
tree where Ángel is tied.  I don’t think he knows we’re here.  Follow me.” 
Josh hand signaled his dogs to crouch and remain silent.

Deputy
Steele snaked along the ground close enough to the heels of Josh’s boots to
smell sandy dirt ground into the rubber soles.  Reaching the spot with a clear
view he stopped.  Drawing half way on his knees, using the cast on his left arm
as support, Josh viewed the men through his binoculars. 

“If we try
and surprise them by getting any closer, we stand a good chance of getting
hurt,” whispered Josh loosening his holster strap.  “And, we lose the element
of surprise.”

In the
distance Jimmie Joe’s voice became crystal clear as he lectured his young,
helpless captive.

“You stupid,
fucking, little bastard.  What the hell is wrong with you?  I literally saved
your ass in prison.  I get you in on the biggest heist of your wretched life
and how do you pay me back?  By sneaking up on me like I’m some sort of stupid
rookie con?  I made a mistake by letting you live earlier.  I should have
killed you at your grandfather’s house.”

Deputy
Steele watched the pair through the rifle’s scope.  Josh eyed them through his
binoculars.

Jimmie Joe
suddenly grabbed Ángel by the hair.  He forced the gun into his cheek, howling
with delight as he distorted his prey’s face.  Drawing back he pointed the gun
barrel at Ángel’s head.  His expression turned vile as he repeatedly brought
the handle of the gun down hard on Ángel’s face and neck.  Standing back, the
big man grunted discordantly before kicking Ángel in the ribs and spitting on
him.

“I don’t
know what the hell I’m waiting for.  I ought to shoot you right now and get it
over with.  What good is your fucking, rotten life anyway?  Your girlfriend’s
dead--your grandfather’s in jail, your mother and your grandmother are dead. 
I’d be doing you a hell of a favor by having you join them.”

“Ángel’s not
moving,” whispered Deputy Steele.

“If he has
an ounce of smarts, he’s playing possum,” answered Josh.

Jimmie Joe
also noticed his prey wasn’t stirring.  He grabbed a tree branch for balance
and brought the heel of his boot against the bridge of Ángel’s nose.  Angrily
he bore down with the full weight of his massive body.   Blood hurled through
the air.

“Wake up,
you little, brown traitor.  It’s no time for a siesta.”

The insane
laughter of the big man echoed in the canyon rousting a pair of night birds
whose fluttering wings whooshed in the distance.

“I never
killed a man I couldn’t look in the eye and I’m not starting now.  So wake the
fuck up.” shouted Jimmie Joe.  “I said, wake the fuck up.”

Half lying
on his side, head tilted back, Ángel didn’t stir. 

“Maybe he’s
dead already,” whispered Deputy Steele.

“He’s not. 
Zero in on his hands.  He’s a tough little soldier.”

Deputy
Steele sighted the scope toward Ángel’s hands.  Tied behind his back, around
the thin base of the mesquite tree, Ángel’s fingers were clawing at the ground,
gathering sand and dirt, possible weapons for one last stand.  She returned the
aim of her rifle back toward Jimmie Joe who had now tucked his gun under his
arm.  He opened a water bottle, twisted Ángel’s neck toward the ground so his
nose was pointing upward and began pouring water into his nostrils.  Ángel
sputtered reflexively.

“So the
little muchacha is awake now, is he?”

“Go to hell,
Jimmie Joe.  You son of a bitch. Go straight to hell!”

The
stillness of the night provided no resistance for the raw tension of barbed
hatred zinging through the air.  Deputy Steele raised the 30.06 to her eye. 
She drew a bead just above Jimmie Joe’s ear.  The big man began to pace slowly
back and forth, repeatedly checking his weapon.  Directly behind him, in her
scope, she saw Sheriff Hanks moving through the underbrush toward Jimmie Joe. 
If she missed or the bullet passed through Jimmie Joe, it would head directly
toward the sheriff.  Josh held a rock in his good hand.  He set his .45 at his
side so he could quickly pick it up once he tossed the rock.  Setting his gun
down was a gamble. It was a risk he had to take if his plan was going to be
executed.  Moreover, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use his .45.

“Time is
running out,” he whispered.  “If we are going to act, it has to be now.”

The utter
calmness in his voice sent a chill down Kate’s spine.  Her heart raced as she
looked through the scope.  Deputy Kate Steele could practically hear the wings
of the Angel of Death approaching.

“I’m going
to throw this rock directly between us and him.  I’m hoping Jimmie Joe will
turn directly toward you when he hears the noise.  He may crouch down so be
ready for that.  You will have three, maybe four seconds to get your best
shot.  If we don’t do this now, Ángel is a dead man.  It’s up to you to save
that young man and rid the world of a wicked one.”

Through the
scope she eyed Jimmie Joe Walker.  For the first time in her life she
recognized what pure evil looked like.  If she pulled the trigger, this devil
would be dead.  But the line of her aim was such that she would almost
certainly hit Zeb as well.  If she did nothing, Ángel Gómez would most
certainly die.

“It is time
to save the life of an Ángel,” she whispered.  “Don’t throw that rock yet. 
Give me thirty seconds to sneak around behind Jimmie Joe, then throw the rock. 
I need a clear, safe shot.”

“I don’t
like it,” said Josh.  “That is dangerous for you and we increase the risk of
Jimmie Joe killing Ángel.”

Before Josh
could complete his sentence Kate was moving stealthily through the underbrush
behind Jimmie Joe.  Through his binoculars he watched as she slipped behind a
split cactus tree, not more than a dozen feet behind Jimmie Joe.  She found
Jimmie Joe in the scope, looked toward Josh, nodded and looked back through her
scope.  She took one step forward to steady her position.  At that instant her
foot caught between two rocks and she stumbled forward falling on top of her
weapon.  Simultaneously Josh tossed the rock. One second later the .45 was in
his hand, pointed at Jimmie Joe.  Life then became a series of slow motion
events.

Kate’s sense
of hearing became so exacting that the rock arcing through the thin night air
brought a clear whistling sound to her ear.  Overhead, a pair of mated killdeer
gracefully shifted their unified flight pattern as the stone descended onto a
small bush breaking a branch, rustling dead leaves.  Behind Jimmie Joe, Zeb, on
bended knee with his finger resting on the trigger, aimed his rifle toward the
big man who suddenly disappeared into the undergrowth. 

Jimmie Joe
smiled as he pointed his weapon directly into the face of Deputy Steele. 
Slowly he pulled the rifle from beneath her. 

“Bad day to
be you,” he whispered.  “One sound out of your mouth and you are a dead woman. 
Got that?”

She nodded. 
Jimmie Joe pulled a filthy bandana from his pocket, ripped in in half and
quickly tied Kate’s hands behind her back and gagged her.  She knew Sheriff
Hanks and Josh were out there and could possibly save her life.  What she had
not figured on was how quickly Jimmie Joe assessed the situation.

“Sheriff,
are you listening?”

No response
was forthcoming.

“I know you
see my little friend tied to the mesquite tree.”

Jimmie Joe
quickly pulled the weapon Kate had been carrying to his shoulder.

“Thanks for
the scope, Deputy,” he said as he pointed the gun at the helpless Ángel.  “Adiós
Ángel.”

The gunshot
took less than a fraction of a second to tear Ángel’s chest apart.  He gasped
once, lightly.  His head fell forward.  His life was over.

“Your deputy
is next, Sheriff.  You’ve got thirty seconds to come out with your weapon over
your head or she dies.  You know I will do it.”

The seconds
began ticking off the clock inside Zeb’s head. He knew Josh was near but didn’t
know where.  Ten seconds passed.  The guilt of Deputy Funke dying under his
command raced through his head.  He couldn’t let Deputy Steele die.  He had to
risk his own life for the slim possibility of saving hers.

“Twenty
seconds, Sheriff.  Your deputy is breathing her final breaths unless you do
something now.”

Silence.

“Fifteen
seconds.  My finger is getting itchy.”

Zeb lifted
his weapon over his head and walked into the open space next to the murdered
Ángel Gómez. 

“Good move,
Sheriff.  Now put the weapon down in front of you.”

Zeb did as
ordered.  Jimmie Joe once again put the weapon to his shoulder.  Josh Diamond  was
watching all of this through his binoculars.  With a silent move of two fingers
he ordered his dogs to attack.  As they flew through the brush Jimmie Joe
turned and Deputy Steele swung her legs around knocking him off balance. 
Falling, his shot went wide.  Zeb hit the dirt.

Jimmie Joe
righted himself, turned and found himself staring down a gun barrel.  He
reached for his holstered .38.  Josh’s weapon was aimed directly between Jimmy
Joe’s eyes.  His finger felt weightless as it rested lightly against the
trigger.  Exhaling slowly he felt the warm flesh of his finger squeezing
against the cold metal of the trigger.  He had vowed never to fire on another
human being.  Suddenly his dogs were within feet of Jimmie Joe Walker. Walker
instinctively pointed his weapon at the dogs.  It was his last mistake.  Josh
exhaled, and pulled the trigger.  The shot was true.   It split the skull of
Jimmie Joe Walker.  As his body buckled, his crumbling legs gave way to the
onrushing forces of certain death.  Landing on his knees in a praying position,
his body paused momentarily.  A cry of devilish despair erupted from his
bloodstained lips.  Abruptly his head snapped back and then jerked forward
again.  Jimmie Joe Walker breathed his last tormented breath, crashing face
first into the jagged underbrush.