Devils and Dust (28 page)

C
OSGROVE’S FACE
darkened with anger. “Have you lost your mind, son?” he barked. “Give me that weapon. That’s an order.”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Castle said. “Something is way fucked-up here, and I ain’t doing a goddamn thing until I figure out what it is.”

“Deputy,” Cosgrove said, “you are buying yourself more trouble than—”

Castle interrupted him. “I’ll need your weapon, sir. Reach down, pull it out with two fingers, and put it on the ground. You know the drill.”

Cosgrove looked about ready to explode. “Come and take it, you son of a bitch. Or are you going to shoot me? Right here, when I haven’t got a weapon in my hand?”

“No, sir,” Castle said. He let go of his two-handed grip and lowered the gun to his side. “I won’t shoot you when you don’t have a weapon in your hand.” He slid his gun into the holster.

Cosgrove seemed to relax. Then his hand moved quickly toward his belt. Castle didn’t have time to think. He drew and fired in a smooth motion he’d practiced a thousand times on the range. The first two rounds caught Cosgrove in the chest and knocked him backward. He stumbled back, against the closed metal door, cursing, but didn’t go down. Castle saw the Sheriff’s pistol clear the holster as if in slow motion.

Body armor
.
That’s why he wore the jacket.
The barrel was coming up, up…Castle’s hands seemed to move independently of his thoughts as he adjusted his aim and put the third round into the center of the Sheriff’s forehead.

A
NGELA TENSED
as he heard the knock on the door. “Sergeant Bentley?” she called out.

“No, ma’am,” a voice said. “My name is Ramon.” The door swung open. “I…I brought you lunch.”

She immediately knew something was wrong. The young Latino man standing in the doorway was sweating profusely. It ran down his face and stained the armpits of his shirt. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Thank you,” she said as calmly as she could, backing toward the bed. “But I’m not very hungry. And as you can see my friend here is—”

“I’m sorry,” Ramon said as he reached inside the bag. His hand came out holding a gun. As soon as it did, Angela reached back onto the cart next to the bed, her hand going unerringly to the scissors she’d noticed earlier.

“No!” she screamed as she leaped forward. The sound made him flinch and his shot went wild, smacking into the plaster of the wall behind her. She brought the scissors down with all her might in a vicious downward strike that buried them to the hilt in the shoulder of his gun hand. He shrieked in agony and dropped the gun. As he fell to his knees, crying in pain, she yanked the scissors out with another howl of rage. “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” she screamed and prepared to bring the scissors down again, this time into his brain.

The young man cried out in fear again and began to propel himself backward across the floor. Angela followed, the scissors still raised high. She was consumed with killing rage, all the anxiety and anger and naked fear of the last few days preparing to channel itself into that last murderous strike.

“ANGELA!” she heard a voice bellow from down the hall. She stopped, but didn’t turn. She stood over the crying man, breathing hard. She wanted to kill him so badly. But the voice had stopped her. That, and the thought that had come unbidden to her mind as she’d raised the scissors high.

This is how Jack must have felt
.

It was exhilarating and it made her sick to her stomach at the same time.

“Angela,” the voice said, more softly. She lowered the scissors. She turned toward the voice, but not before locating the gun on the floor and kicking it out of reach.

Huston and Sergeant Bentley were there, a few feet away. They had identical black handguns trained on the man on the floor. Huston was down on one knee, Bentley standing in a slight crouch beside him.

“Ma’am,” Bentley said, “could you back up, just a smidge? I won’t miss at this range, but Mr. Huston’s been lazy at gettin’ his range time in lately, an’ I’d rather him not hit you.”

“Sergeant,” Huston said, “when this is over, we’ll both go to the range. Loser buys the other a steak.”

“I thought you was vegetarian, Doc.”

“I’ll make an exception for the purpose of watching you buy me steak.”

“Please,” the man on the floor sobbed, “Don’t let her kill me.”

“You’re on,” Bentley said, and straightened up. “But business before pleasure, I reckon.” He walked over to Ramon, looked down, and shook his head. “I knew you was up to no good. You want me to take a look at that shoulder?”

“Please,” Ramon said again. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Funny way you got of showin’ it,” Bentley said as he bent over. He tore Ramon’s dress shirt aside. Blood flowed from the wound Angela had made in his shoulder. “Missed the arteries,” he observed. He looked up at Angela and grinned that crooked grin again.

Angela wondered if he was completely sane.

“You want, I can show you how to be a little more effective with those next time.” His face turned serious. “You’re not lookin’ so hot, ma’am,” he said. “You may wanna sit down.”

“Thanks,” Angela said faintly, “I think I will.” She stumbled back into the room and sat down. The world seemed to fade away for a bit. When she recovered her senses, Huston was kneeling next to her, taking her pulse. The room was full of people, some in suits, some in uniform. They all seemed to be talking at once.

“I thought Bentley was the doctor,” she said muzzily. “Why’d he call you ‘doc’?”

“Sergeant Bentley is a man of many talents,” he muttered, looking at his watch to time her pulse, “And we cross-train. Never know what you might have to do.”

“As a cultural attaché,” she said.

“Shhh,” he said, but he was smiling. She noticed the watch face. It was a grinning cartoon cat, his front legs forming the hands. “That cat…I remember him. Felix—”

“Okay,” he interrupted. “You’re good.” He stood up and clapped his hands. “All right,” he said in an authoritative voice. “Everyone out.” They all stopped talking and stared at him. He made “go away” motions with his hands. “Go on, now. Shoo. We’ll be medevacing these ladies out of here within the hour.”

“Hold on a damn minute here,” a wiry bald man in Marine fatigues with a major’s clusters on the lapel spoke up. “I wasn’t made aware of any—”

“Sorry, Major,” Huston interrupted. “We had to jump a few rungs on the normal chain of command.” He fished in his jacket pocket, took out a small white card. “Please call this number. Ask for a Mr. Weaver. He’ll give you any authorizations you need.”

The major looked at the card and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at Huston. “This card says The White House.”

Huston’s face was bland. “That’s where Mr. Weaver works.”

“All right,” the major said. “Wait here.” He left the room.

“Why Felix?” Angela asked Huston.

He turned to her. “What?”

“Why Felix the Cat? On your watch. Seems like kind of an unusual bit of jewelry for a cultural attaché.”

Huston smiled. “My spirit animal.”

“Felix the Cat is your spirit animal?”

“Since childhood.”

The major returned. He looked shaken. “So,” he said to Huston in a low voice. “Iron Horse. It’s not just a rumor.”

“Major,” Huston said softly, “not everyone in the room has the clearance to hear that name.” He cocked his head as if listening to something. The room fell silent.

In the sudden quiet, Angela could hear the unmistakable thudding pulse of rotor blades.

“Ah,” he said, “that would be our helicopter.”

K
ELLER HAD
been standing at the bars of the cell when he heard the corridor door opening. He turned toward the sound, getting ready for another try at negotiating with Castle. The men who came in, however, weren’t deputies. The first two who came in looked like thugs, arms heavily tattooed, assault rifles cradled in their arms. He recognized the third from his picture on the website. It was Walker, the self-proclaimed ‘General’ of the Church of Elohim.
Oh, shit
. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oscar stand up. The three didn’t speak until they reached the end of the hallway and the cells. Walker gave Keller only a glance before turning to Oscar.

“Oscar Sanchez,” he said. “You are under arrest.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “That much would seem obvious.”

“Shut the fuck up, monkey,” one of the gunmen snarled. He raised the weapon to point into the cell.

“Hey,” Keller said. “Walker.”

Walker acted as if he hadn’t heard. “You will be taken from this place to appear before a people’s tribunal, where you will answer for your crimes against the United States, specifically that you have violated its sovereign and sacred borders and defied its lawful authorities.”

“I would like to speak to a lawyer,” Oscar said.

“Denied,” Walker said.

“Walker,” Keller said, more loudly. “Look at me, you son of a bitch.”

Walker still ignored him. He took a ring of keys from his belt and opened the cell door. He stepped back. “Out,” he said.

Oscar stepped back from the door as well. “I don’t think I’ll be going with you.”

“Even to see your sons?” Walker said.

“WALKER!” Keller yelled.

Oscar stepped forward. The eager look on his face broke Keller’s heart. “You have them?”

“Oscar!” Keller said. “Don’t listen to him. He’s fucking with you.”

“They want to see their father,” Walker said. “Come with us if you wish to see them.”

Oscar squared his shoulders and walked out of the cell. The two gunmen stepped aside to let him out. The grins on their faces enraged Keller. He threw himself against the bars, reaching out for Walker. “Let him go,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Let him go, you cocksucker.”

Oscar looked at Keller. He seemed very calm. “Come help me if you can, Jack.”

“I’ll do it, buddy,” Keller choked out. Oscar walked out in front of the gunmen, head held high. Walker lagged behind. Only then did he look at Keller.

“You two have caused me a lot of trouble,” he said. “You, in particular, have betrayed your own race. That’s unforgivable. I hope that, when you get to hell, they give you a seat where you can watch your friend and his brats slowly choking to death when I hang them.”

“I’m going to kill you, Walker,” Keller said.

“I’ll see how long I can make them last,” Walker said. “Let them down, let them catch their breath, then hoist them back up to die a little more. Think about that.” He strode out without looking back.

As the metal door clanged shut, Keller screamed with rage and shook the bars futilely. They didn’t budge. He looked desperately around for anything he could use to get out or use as a weapon. As he did, he became aware of voices raised on the other side of the door. Then the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Another in quick succession. Then a third. He froze, waiting, for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, the metal door swung open. Castle walked in, shuffling like a sleepwalker. He held his sidearm down and away from him in his hand. Keller tensed. Castle reached the cell and looked inside at Keller.

“What the
fuck
is going on here?” he whispered.

“Those people,” Keller said. “The ones that just took my friend? They’re going to kill him. And his children. They’re going to torture them to death. You’ve got to help me stop it.”

Castle looked at him as if he was speaking in tongues. “My boss just tried to kill me.”

Keller nodded. “And I’m betting I was supposed to be next. He was probably going to try and make it look like I was trying to get away. You’d have been a hero. A dead hero.”

Castle shook his head as if trying to clear it. “This is crazy. This is nuts.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. But it’s happening, and we’ve got to stop it. Let me out of here.”

“No,” Castle said, “You’re under arrest. You stay where you are. I’ll call the State Police. Maybe the Feds.”

“We don’t have
time
,” Keller said. “Right now, while you dither around, they are taking that man to the place where they’re holding his sons, and probably a lot of other people as well. And as soon as they get there, from the sound of it, they’re going to give them some sort of fake trial, and then they’re going sentence them to death, and then they’re going to kill them. Slowly. And the only to people who can stop it in time are you and me. Now LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” the last words rose to a scream that seemed to jolt Castle out of his reverie.

He stared at Keller, considering. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay.” He went back out and got the keys, then let Keller out of the cell.

“Thanks,” Keller said.

Castle nodded. He still seemed subdued. “What do we do now?”

“You still have my weapons? And the ammo?”

Castle nodded. “In the locker.”

As they stepped out into the main room, Keller saw Cosgrove’s body. He took note of the neat wound in the center of the forehead. “Good shooting,” he said.

“Thanks,” Castle murmured.

They retrieved the shotgun and M4 carbine from the evidence locker—actually a closet with a heavy padlock added to the door. “You’ve used one of these before, I figure,” Keller said, holding the M4 out to Castle, who looked at it for a moment, then took it.