Stuart Woods - Short Straw

Vittorio placed a file on the table, opened it and produced a pen. "Sign six sheets of paper with your proper name, and we'll accept your offer."

Cupie spoke up again. "Just sign the papers, take the three hundred grand and we'll head to El Norte."

Barbara picked up the pen, signed each of the papers, then put down the pen.

Vittorio examined the signatures, closed the file and put it away.

"Now," she said, "do we have a deal?"

"Sure, why not?" Cupie asked.

"Well, I want to finish my lunch and get some sleep before we head out."

"I guess we could use some lunch and some sleep, too."

As if on cue, lunch arrived.

"I wouldn't drink the water," Cupie said. "Stick to beer for everything but showering."

They dug in.

"Oh, I forgot," Cupie said. "Your husband told us to tell you that your plan to have him murdered didn't work. The guy you hired and his accomplice are in jail."

They finished lunch, Cupie paid the check and they got up to leave. "Let me just remind you," he said. "We already have what we want, so in effect, we're now working for you. However, we do wish to be paid in advance; so we'd better go to a bank, so you can cash some traveler's checks."

"All right," she said. "I have to turn in my rental car and get my deposit back, too."

A few minutes later, Cupie and Vittorio were tucking cash into their pockets.

"Remember," Cupie said, "if you want to scamper now, go right ahead, but you won't have our protection any more, and bad people will be looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Barbara said. "I'm tired; let's find a hotel."

JOE BIG BEAR SAT IN HIS TRUCK OUTSIDE THE SANTA FE County Corrections Center and waited, eyeing the woman in the car across the lot, wearing a red bandanna on her head. She was better looking than he had expected.

A few minutes after ten, the side door of the building was opened by a guard, and a dozen or fifteen men walked out of the building, blinking in the bright sunlight. Big Bear knew two of them by name, though not personally. The one called Bobby walked directly over to the car of the woman in the bandanna and got in. A short conversation ensued, then she handed him an envelope. He inspected the contents carefully, then some sort of argument ensued. After a moment of this, Bobby got out of the car, looking out of sorts, and the woman drove away. Bobby began to hoof it down the street toward the bus stop.

Big Bear drove out of the parking lot and pulled alongside the man. "Hey, Bobby, you need a lift?"

Bobby eyed him suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"I got out yesterday. Come on, hop in."

Bobby got into the car. "Oh yeah, I seen you in the yard. How come you're giving me a lift?"

"Just passing by, and I saw you."

"You wasn't passing by; you was parked in the lot back there. You haven't asked me where I'm going."

"Oh, I know where you're going," Big Bear said. He reached down and pressed the switch that locked the doors. "Fasten your seat belt," he said. "It's the law."

Bobby reluctantly put on his seat belt. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm saving your life," Big Bear replied.

"How's that?"

"It's like this: if you'd gone on your way and tried to kill Mr. Eagle, you'd end up with a bullet in your head."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the grand in your pocket and eleven more that what's-his-name promised you."

"Harold?"

"Yeah, Harold. What's his last name? I forget."

"Fuentes."

"Yeah, Harold Fuentes. He the big guy with the bald head?"

"No, he's the medium-size guy with the gray hair and the ponytail."

"Right. Got it."

"How do you know about this, anyway?"

"Word gets around," Big Bear said. "It's like this: Harold hired you to kill Mr. Eagle because he isn't getting out for a couple of weeks. So he hires you, and that way, when Mr. Eagle dies, he's in jail. Pretty good alibi, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And then, when Harold gets out, he meets you to give you the other eleven grand he promised you, and instead, he gives you a bullet. You're gone, and he keeps all the money. The cops don't much care who killed you, at least not the way they'd care who killed Mr. Eagle. Get the picture?"

Bobby gave a low whistle. "Man, I really bit, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

"But where are we going?"

Big Bear pulled over to the curb in front of the bus station. "We're there," he said, "and we're about to save your life."

"How?"

"It's like this: you take some of the grand and you go inside and buy a bus ticket."

"To where?"

"Anywhere you like, Bobby; that's the beauty of this thing. You're free as a bird, and you've got a thousand dollars in your pocket."

"But I like it here, in Santa Fe."

"Not anymore, Bobby. Santa Fe isn't the place for you anymore."

"Why not?"

"Two reasons: one, because when Harold gets out, he'll kill you for not killing Mr. Eagle. Of course, he was always going to kill you."

"I can handle Harold. What's the other reason?"

Big Bear reached under his jean jacket, pulled out the Colt Python and pointed it at Bobby. "The other reason is that if you don't go in there and get on a bus, I'm gonna kill you. Same if you should come back to Santa Fe. Now, is all that perfectly clear?"

"I guess so."

"Don't guess, Bobby."

"It's clear."

"And don't think things are going to improve if you wait awhile, because Harold will still be here, and I'll still be here, too." Big Bear unlocked the doors. "Go ahead. I'll wait until I see you on a bus. Be sure and wave."

"Well, thanks for the lift," Bobby said. He got out of the truck and headed for the bus station.

Big Bear waited until the next bus pulled out, and he saw Bobby waving from a window. He started the engine, turned around and drove back to the jail. He shoved the pistol under his seat then went inside, presented himself at the visitors' window and asked to see Harold Fuentes.

After a half-hour's wait, a man with gray hair and a ponytail walked into the visiting room and sat down at a table, looking around for a familiar face. Big Bear walked over and sat down at the table. "Hey, Harold," he said.

"Who the fuck are you?" Fuentes asked.

"I'm the guy who's bringing you the good news," Big Bear said.

"What good news?"

"You just made, what, twenty-four thousand dollars, and you didn't have to do anything for it."

Fuentes looked around warily. "What are you talking about?"

"It's like this, Harold: the party who paid you the money is now in Mexico and is never coming back."

"How do you know this?"

"I know all sorts of things you don't know, Harold. For instance, I know that Bobby, the guy you hired to do the dirty work, is, right now, on a bus out of town, and he's not coming back. So, you don't have to kill him, and, of course, you don't have to kill Mr. Eagle. When you get out, you just spend the money, without a care in the world."

"And you're sure about all this?"

"I'm absolutely positive, Harold."

"Is that all you've got to tell me?"

"Just one more thing, Harold: if you should somehow forget all this and take it into your mind to harm Mr. Eagle anyway, I'm going to blow your fucking head off. Got that?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Have a nice stay here, Harold, and enjoy yourself when you get out."

Harold stood up. "I'll do my best. Oh, and thanks."

"Don't mention it," Big Bear said. "Not to anybody." He got up and left the jail.

Once in the parking lot, he called Ed Eagle's office and asked for the lawyer.

"Joe, it's Eagle."

"Good morning, Mr. Eagle. I just wanted you to know that the little problem you mentioned to me has been taken care of."