Parker climbed out, lay Grofield across the back seats, pulled England and the driver out of the jeep onto the ground, got the .38 service revolver from England’s pocket and put it in his own hip pocket, got behind the wheel of the jeep, and made a fast U-turn. He headed back for Casas.
3
THEY were walking along the road, towards Parker, and they didn’t have the suitcases.
The dust cloud had told them, the trailing tan puff this jeep carried around behind itself on these roads like a comet’s tail. They’d seen it coming, and they’d remembered the jeep that had gone by the other way a quarter of an hour before, and just in case there was a connection between jeep and dust cloud, between dust cloud and the man who once had carried those suitcases, just in case there was a connection they’d hidden the suitcases.
Near, very near. They were strolling along the road, and they couldn’t have gone far from the road, so the suitcases were very near. Beyond them, the other side of them. They’d hidden the suitcases and started walking away from them, so that’s where they had to be.
They looked straight ahead as they walked. Neither of them looked at Parker or the jeep at all.
Parker went on by them, and farther on another hundred yards, and then he stopped. He turned the jeep around and saw them standing still down there, the old man looking back and the young one tugging at his arm, trying to make him walk again. But then the young one saw it was too late, and he let go the old man’s arm, and the two of them watched.
Parker got out of the jeep. To his right, off the side of the road, there was a swath of dry brown ground, littered with pebbles, the swath about ten feet wide, ending at a low stone wall. The stone wall was about knee height, but fluctuated, and was made of the orange-brown stones that were lying all over this country, the stones of all different sizes, no cement used but just the stones piled up one on top of another, the low wall meandering along beside the road, separating dry brown lifeless ground from dry brown lifeless ground.
Parker walked along the road towards the two men, and then he turned around and walked back towards the jeep. He passed the jeep and walked another twenty yards, and then turned around and did it all over again.
On the second circuit he saw it, peeking up over the top of the wall, curved, plastic, black, alien.
The handle.
He let his lips spread in a smile. He started towards the handle.
As soon as he took a step away from the road, towards the wall, the two men began throwing stones at him. The old one had no arm, and the stones he threw were short, but the young one had a good arm and a good eye.
They were a nuisance, an irritation. Parker took England’s revolver from his hip pocket and showed it to them. He didn’t want to kill them, that was just stupid. There was no need for it.
But they kept throwing stones even after he showed them the gun, and now the old man was shouting, too: ‘Hi! Hi! Hi!’
Parker put a bullet in the dirt ahead of the young one’s feet.
They both stopped. They looked at the ground where the puff had come up, and they looked at each other. Then they both dropped the stones out of their hands.
But they wouldn’t go away. They stood where they were, blankfaced, and they watched everything Parker did.
Parker walked the rest of the way over to the wall and bent slightly over it and put his hand around the protruding handle and lifted. The suitcase came up into view, satisfactorily full. He carried it back to the jeep and put it on the floor in front on the passenger’s side. Then he went back to the wall and walked along it, looking over the tip, until he found the other suitcase. He picked that one up and carried it back, too.
On a hunch, he opened both suitcases. They were full of money, just as they were supposed to be, but the little flannel sacks of diamonds were gone.
He looked up, and the two of them were talking together, low-voiced but angry. One of them wanted to do one thing, and the other one wanted to do the other. Then they saw him looking at them, and they saw the suitcases open on the hood of the jeep, and they came to an agreement. Elaborately casual, watching Parker every inch of the way, they left the road, moved to the wall, clambered over it. The young one had to help the old one over the wall. When they were both over, they started walking. They walked straight out across country, away from the road.
Parker let them go. They weren’t carrying the diamonds with them, or they’d still be in the suitcase, so they were probably buried somewhere near where Baron was buried. Parker spoke no Spanish, and it was unlikely either of those two spoke any English, so questioning them would be too complicated. There was enough in the suitcases anyway, and hanging around looking for the diamonds would take up too much time. For all those reasons, Parker let them go.
Way out there, they were walking faster and faster; now they were running. All in all, they were a comical pair.
Parker turned back to the jeep, and Grofield was sitting up, his face grey underneath the dirt. ‘Is that the geetus, love?’ he asked.
‘All but the diamonds.’ Parker shut the suitcases, put one on the floor in front and one on the floor in back. ‘We’ll let the diamonds go,’ he said.
Grofield said. ‘Where oh where has my Baron gone?’
Parker pointed at the two dots running north along the rubbly ground. ‘I figure those two took care of him. They had the goods.’
‘England will be sad,’ Grofield said. He smiled, and looked around a little, and then frowned, saying, ‘Where is he? England, where is he?’
‘We left him.’
‘You’re a wonder, Parker.’ Parker got behind the wheel. ‘Lay down,’ he said. ‘I can’t drive this thing slow.’
