'I'll show you why.'
Hecht was led to the rear of the truck, where a tarp was pulled back just enough for him to view what remained of McManus. The old man kept his head at the sight. The leather packet was positioned beside the body. Rawbone held it for Hecht to take. It was blood-stained.
'This one had a different idea about the transaction than you did.'
Mr. Hecht waved away the packet.
'THERE'S NOTHING LIKE a finely worked `fuck you,'' said Rawbone. He removed a thin band of hundreds from the packet, then tossed it aside and pocketed the money.
John Lourdes had watched everything from a stand of trees, joining the father only after the dust trailing Hecht's vehicle had passed away. He was looking over a note Hecht had written on his personal stationery. Addressed to a Doctor Stallings, it was about a job and was to be brought to a railroad siding at the junction of the road to Casas Grandes.
'You know who the doctor is, don't you?' asked Rawbone.
'I do. He's in that film.'
The father put out a hand to shake, but the son was preoccupied with that letter. 'Mr. Lourdes, you have fulfilled your obligation and I, mine. It is time we part ways.'
The son looked up. He did not take the father's hand. 'I'm sure you feel we're both the richer for our time together ... but we're not near done yet.'
TWENTY
AWBONE STOOD IN the wind with gulls sweeping overhead and stared at the son as if a mountain had dropped down on him from heaven.
'You better just enlighten me to what you meant.'
'You speak the same language I do. We are done only when I say we are done.'
'Are you trying to roll me into a ditch?'
He grabbed the letter and started to walk away.
'Where are you going?' said John Lourdes. 'Not back.'
The father held up the letter. 'I'm gonna go get introduced to my future.'
By the time Rawbone reached the truck John Lourdes had drawn up behind him with his weapon pressed against the back of the father's neck. With that he stretched his arm and took the automatic Rawbone carried.
John Lourdes stood back. He pointed to the rear of the truck. 'McManus ... you killed him. I know and Mr. Hecht ... he knows. You might even say he's your accomplice in this. Now if justice Knox went to Mexican intelligence, well-?'
The son now circled the father. 'What you said to me back at the river when you ... poisoned ... those three customs agents. `Mr. Lourdes,' you said, `it's a means of holding you to the cross.'' There was a flicker of dark accomplishment in his eyes. 'We're done only when I say we're done.'
'Back there on the street,' said Rawbone. 'When we were walking to the Customs House and you had that photo. And the note to Hecht. You were plotting then.'
'This moment here?'
'This moment here.'
As if mocking the father, he said, 'Aye. Something pretty close, anyway.'
'It does seem like you're a couple of steps up from Montgomery Ward's.'
John Lourdes grabbed the letter. 'You're gonna deliver this truck and you're gonna get yourself a job and I'm gonna be right there with you and we're gonna find out where this truck is going and who it's going to and why, if it means driving it all the way-'
'I'll be arm-wrestling death first.'
'And who says you aren't? Maybe I dusted off that hearse a little in your honor before we left Juarez.'
Rawbone changed his tactic. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He
