Thomas Perry - Blood Money

Just as Jane reached the end of the open field, her ears picked up a faint car noise. She hurried on, still listening. The sound was regular and even, but it began to seem a pitch lower than the engine of the usual car. She turned and looked toward the road.

Around the curve she could see the dark shape of a car crawling along with its lights off. When it reached a spot on the far side of the house where the bushes shielded it from the front windows, it stopped. Around the bend came a second car, then a third and a fourth. One by one, they pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped.

Jane turned toward Rita and saw that she was staring, wide-eyed, at the cars. Jane pushed her forward, then lingered to keep Bernie moving. She looked over her shoulder, then saw the first two doors open up, and men begin to climb out.

“Is that what you were expecting to see?” she whispered.

“Roughly,” said Bernie. “What now?”

“Let yourself get scared,” she said. “It helps you move faster.”

28

As soon as Jane had hurried the others past the blind, she paused again to look back. There were now several silhouettes making their way toward the doors of the house. Some of them walked with one arm held straight toward the ground, as though they were carrying pistols. Then she saw movement in the foliage near the parked cars and felt a growing alarm. There were men there too, moving into the brush carrying long-barreled weapons. She tried to count them, but the darkness and the bushes near the road made them difficult to make out. One would be visible, but then she would lose sight of him. She would see another movement, but not be sure whether it was a man or the wind.

Finally she saw two men carrying rifles step out of the brush behind the house. When she saw them break into a trot toward the low stubble she had just crossed, she sucked in a breath. They were heading toward the blind.

She spun and trotted to catch up with Rita and Bernie. “We’ve got to get away from here.”

“What does it look like we’re doing?” asked Bernie. “Figure eights?”

She took him by the hand and pulled him along. “Once we’re away from the blind, we’ll be behind them.”

Bernie moved more quickly, but Jane could tell that the additional effort was costing him. He was beyond attempting to disguise his heavy breathing now. His jaw hung slack to keep his mouth open, and his breath came out in huffs. His feet seemed to slap the ground, not push off it. Jane knew he was going to have to rest soon, and for the next hundred yards she searched her memory of the trail for places where they could hide. As the minutes went by, she gradually conceded to herself that he wasn’t going to make it.

She stopped and held Rita’s arm. “Here,” she said. “You take this.” She held out the shotgun, and Rita accepted it, doubtfully.

Jane squatted. “Help Bernie up on my back.”

Bernie was horrified. “What?” He gasped. “You can’t carry me.”

“I can try,” said Jane.

“I’m not dead yet,” he puffed. It took a moment for him to get enough breath to say, “I can walk.”

“Not fast enough. Do it.” Jane’s voice was quiet, but Rita could hear in it something hard that reminded her this wasn’t a game. She guided Bernie up behind Jane. Bernie brought his arms around Jane’s neck and clasped his hands, and Jane slipped her arms under Bernie’s knees. Rita pushed Bernie upward to help Jane straighten.

Jane said to Rita, “You lead the way, and I’ll follow. Go as fast as you can without tripping or backtracking, and I’ll try to keep you in sight.”

Jane took a last look back. The two men with rifles were nearly across the burned stubble. As soon as they reached their post at the blind and got their rifles comfortably sighted in, she knew, they would give some kind of signal for the assault to begin.

Jane set off again, making her way through the dry chaparral and spiky plants, threading between rocks and along gravelly inclines, straining to see Rita’s shape ahead of her. She could feel the effect of the extra weight on her feet, calves, and knees, but if she kept her hands clasped at her belly and her back straight, she found she could move at a good walking pace.

In ten minutes, her shoulders and neck were tight and painful, and when she heard hard, sharp gasps, they were her own. The sweat had begun to run down into her eyes and sting them, then fall in drops from her nose and chin.

When Jane reached the dry arroyo, Rita was waiting for her, staring at her in horror. Jane stopped, bent her knees, and let Bernie down. Rita whispered, “How can you do that?”

Jane sank to the ground and lay there. She answered in a strained and winded voice, “I kept reminding myself of what would happen if I didn’t.” After a minute, her voice was stronger. “How do you feel now, Bernie?”

“Better.”

“Good,” said Jane. “Rita, give me the shotgun. I’ll go ahead for a bit. Walk with Bernie at his pace. If there’s a problem, run ahead and get me. Don’t call out.”

“Okay,” said Rita.

Jane got to her feet. “Watch your step here. There’s a slope.” She went down into the arroyo and came up on the other side, then slowly increased her speed to a trot.

Far behind, Jane heard the sound of glass breaking, then a loud creak and bang, as though the front door had just burst inward, the dead bolt wrenching the frame off with it. She kept moving until she thought she heard distant shouts. She glanced over her shoulder.

She could see Bernie and Rita walking toward her. Bernie had his head down, but he seemed to be moving steadily. It looked as though Rita was leaning close to his ear, whispering to him. But far behind them, the lights were going on in the house.

Jane set off again, watching the path ahead and trying to pick out easy, smooth stretches where the others could move quickly. She held the shotgun close to her chest, with her left hand on the foregrip and the right on the stock just behind the trigger guard. A few minutes later, she heard car doors slam, and an engine turn over and start. She turned to see one of the cars pull up the long driveway to stop beside the lighted rectangle of the kitchen door. A man appeared in the doorway, blocking some of the light, then moved and was replaced by another. They appeared to be carrying bulky objects. Were they loading the computers into the car?

Jane hesitated, feeling the impulse to take the disk drives out of her pockets and bury them in the dirt, but resisted. She knew that she couldn’t take the time to do it, and she had a fear that the men would come out here in the daylight and be able to see the hiding place that had seemed invisible to her in the darkness. She could hear Bernie’s and Rita’s footsteps much closer to her now, so she set off again. She heard Bernie stumble, but when she took a step back toward him, she saw he was already coming ahead again, with Rita’s hand on his arm.

Jane went on, and after a time she began to see configurations of plants and rocks that she didn’t quite dare feel sure about, but then she saw distant lights, and she knew that they were approaching Apodaca Hill Road. She stopped and turned back.

She could see the faces of Rita and Bernie. Bernie’s forehead was wet with sweat, and his neck and cheeks had a darker shade, which she knew would be red in the light. She moved closer to look at him.

Bernie saw that she was staring at him, and he rasped, “What are you looking at?”

Jane said, “Sit down and rest.” She turned away from them and crept closer to the edge of Apodaca Hill Road. She went to her belly and slithered forward a few more feet to stop between thick bushes, then peered up the road. It was empty highway as far as she could see. She looked down the road in the other direction. She could see a car parked a few hundred feet away, on the other side of the intersection with Canyon Road. The night was too dark and the car too far away for her to be certain. She couldn’t see people inside, but why else would anyone park there, where there was no building?