Nelson DeMille - Spencerville

Annie wiped the tears from her face with the blanket.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. I know you're worried about me, darlin', but I can take care of myself. You found that out, didn't you?" He laughed and went back to his magazine. "Bitch."

Annie sat in the rocker, feeling cold, hungry, violated, in pain, and exhausted. It had been a bad day, and there would be more of them. She looked at him, then closed her eyes and thought of Keith. She felt his presence inside her and tried to imagine that he was close by. She remembered what he'd said... even if we're separated for a short time, remember that I love you, and know that we'll be together again ... "I promise."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He went back to his magazine. He said, "I bet I know what you're thinkin' about, and it might surprise you that I'm thinkin' the same thing. I hope he comes, too."

Keith found it difficult to sit and wait, but he knew that the later the hour, the more chance of catching Baxter with his guard down. The attacker, he reminded himself, always had the advantage of surprise and mobility, not to mention being psyched up for a fight. The defender had the advantage of having picked the place and prepared it to his liking, and, not inconsequentially, the advantage of creature comforts. But it was this last thing that sometimes lulled the defender into a fatal sense of security.

Billy took a cellophane bag out of his pocket and ripped it open. "You want some peanuts?"

"No."

Billy munched on the peanuts. He said, "Maybe we don't have to kill the dogs. Now that I seen his setup there, I think we can take him from a distance. We just set up firing positions at the edge of the clearing, make a noise, and the dogs bark and he comes out onto that nice high deck and we plug his ass. We got scopes, and we can get off two, three rounds each before he knows what the fuck hit him."

"He's wearing a bulletproof vest."

"Ah, fuck his vest. When those rounds start slapping him around, he's gonna be hurt, even through the vest. And maybe we'll hit an arm or leg. Maybe his fucking head. What do ya think?"

"I like the idea that you're thinking. Okay, he's down. Then what?"

"Okay, after he's down, you move fast — a hundred yards to the house and up to the deck — that's maybe twelve, thirteen seconds, and meantime I'm still layin' down coverin' fire for you, so if he picks his fat ass up from the deck, I nail him again. If there's anything left of him when you get there, you cut his fucking throat. Then I'll come up and gut him. No, shit, Keith, I'm gonna gut him. Hey, if you want, I'll rush him and you lay down the fire. Your call, Lieutenant."

Keith glanced at Billy Marlon. Clearly, the man was enjoying himself, and he had every right to. He said, "Standard fire and maneuver. Not bad. Safe for us."

"Yeah. Whoever's layin' down the covering fire is safe, and the guy who's rushin' the house has to trust the other guy to know how to shoot. You a good shot?"

"Pretty good. You?"

Marlon hesitated, then said, "Used to be the best. Depends now on how steady I can get."

"How steady can you get?"

"For this motherfucker, steady as a rock."

Keith nodded. He thought about Billy's idea. The infantry school would approve. But there were other things going on. A hostage for one, and Keith's image of himself and Baxter face-to-face, for another. They didn't cover any of that in tactics classes, or even in intelligence school. Revenge and payback was something you learned on your own. He said to Billy, "There's a chance that Baxter could take cover before he's badly hurt. He could get around to the blind side of the house, or worse, he could get back into the house."

"Yeah... but..."

"Look, a hundred yards isn't too long a shot, but at night and with the other guy wearing protective armor, it could be a disaster. I don't want him back in the house."

Billy nodded but said, "That's why you or me has to charge across that open space like we got a hundred gooks on our ass. We'll be on top of him before he can get his shit together. Even if he gets in the house, he's gonna be hurt."

"He could kill her."

"Keith, he's gonna be hit, because we both ain't missin' at that distance with scopes, so even if he makes it into the house, he ain't got nothin' on his mind except us and him. He ain't gonna bother her."

"Maybe."

"Hey, you got something else on your mind?"

"Yes, I do. What I don't want to happen is one of us getting him with a lucky head shot." Keith added, "I don't want him to die quickly. That's where I'm coming from. You have to know that."

Billy stayed silent a moment and nodded slowly. "Yeah... I already figured that out. Look, I don't want him to be standin' there one second and the next second he's lights-out with a slug through his brain, no pain, no eye-to-eye. Hell, I want to gut him alive. Alive, Keith, and watch his eyes when I hold his guts up in front of him. But if you're thinkin' we got to low-crawl up to that house and catch him with his thumb up his ass, I ain't buyin' it. I don't have that kind of nerve. Do you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you go ahead. I'll cover you from the trees. But you got to take those dogs out first."

"Right. That's why I bought the crossbow. Low-tech solution to a low-tech problem."

"I guess so." Billy added, "Hey, what we want to do and what we can do is two different things. I'm givin' you the safe way to take this asshole out, and you're givin' me some commando shit."

"Billy, either way, you do the same thing. Just set up a firing position in the trees."

"Hey, I ain't worried about my useless ass. But I don't want you gettin' wasted out there in the open, or gettin' into that house and findin' out he's waitin' for you. I can't help you there, buddy." He added, "My way, when we get to him, he's either dead or hurt bad. Either way, I gut him."

Keith took a deep breath and informed Billy, "I think I want to take him alive."

"No way."

"Yes, I want to tie him up and throw him in the back of the pickup truck and bring him to the law. I've been thinking about it, and that's the way I want to do it. You think about it."

"I already thought about it, Keith. I know what you mean. He'd rather be dead than face the music for what he done. But I gotta tell you, the fucking law works funny. The law fucks me around, 'cause I'm dog shit, but I never hurt nobody. That motherfucker could walk."

Keith considered that. Aside from all the humiliations that Baxter would face, in a year or two he could be loose on the world again. Cliff Baxter was sick, and the state might agree with Baxter's attorney that he needed therapy and counseling. He'd had a traumatic experience, seeing his wife in bed with another man, a slick seducer from out of town, and he did what any man would do: He beat up the boyfriend, then, instead of kicking his wife out, he took her on a little vacation and tried to work things out. Sure, he overdid it a bit, which is why he needed counseling. Keith thought about that and finally decided that, despite his promise to Annie, Cliff Baxter needed to die. He said, "Okay... we waste him. But I have to do it up close. He's got to know it was me and you."

"Okay... if that's what you need to make it right for you, I'm okay with that. I like it. Hope we can do it."

"We'll do it."

Billy said, "Hey, after we finish this shit, I'm goin' to Columbus to look her up. I couldn't do that while he was alive. You know?"

"I know."

"I couldn't look nobody in the eye, Keith. I hung around that town, and I'd see him on the street, and he'd laugh at me. He'd arrest me sometimes when he saw me drunk and take me in and make me go through a strip search, and the bastard took pictures, and he said he mailed some to Beth with him standin' next to me."