Mike opened his mouth to explain just exactly who he was and why he shouldn?t be fucked with, when the floor-to-ceiling glass window exploded behind him, glass raining, gunshots ripping through Ortega?s office.
Mike threw himself on the carpet, looked up at the bruiser stumbling through the broken window. The bodyguard held his gut with one hand. In his other trembling hand he held a big automatic and fired wildly.
Mike compensated for his bad eye, squeezed the trigger. The slug punched a bloody hole in the bodyguard?s forehead. Mike didn?t wait for the body to hit the floor. He was already turning back to Ortega, knew he?d be going for the snub-nose on the desk.
Ortega fired, ripping carpet two inches from Mike?s head.
Still flat on the floor, Mike aimed, held his breath, and fired. Blood sprayed from Ortega?s shoulder; he flew back, his pistol spinning away. He fell behind the desk.
Silence and cordite and the copper smell of blood hung in the air. Mike grunted, stood. He circled the desk slowly, saw Ortega on his back. His breathing came quick and shallow. Blood leaked from his shoulder at an alarming rate, and Mike figured maybe he?d hit an artery.
?H-help me.? Ortega?s voice was weak.
?Tell me about Meredith Cornwall. Who does she work for??
Ortega?s eyes had gone glassy. ?Water. G-get me some w-water, will you?? But then his eyes rolled up and that was it.
Mike shook his head. ?Hell.?
He walked back through the house and found the front door standing open. He guessed maybe the maid had fled when she heard the shots. The police might be on the way. No time to hang around. He climbed back into the Caddy, cranked it, and drove.
He still had no idea where he was going.
27
Sitting halfway up the ridge, Andrew Foley picked at the strings of his mandolin and watched the scene in the valley unfold. The two Indians had backed a thirty-year-old pickup truck next to the remains of his uncle?s cabin. The truck was nearly all rust, but might have been blue once upon a time. Even at this distance, the faces of the two Indians were striking. Dour and brown-red, like they?d been carved from mahogany. They both wore jeans and T-shirts, the woman?s hair in braids, the man wearing a straw hat. They stoically loaded the blanket-wrapped body of their son into the bed of the truck.
Andrew shifted his gaze down the slope. Linda was hiking up toward him. Her house was directly behind him up the slope.
He strummed an intro to ?As Tears Go By,? segued into a plucking rhythm. The bluegrass version of the Mick Jagger song stopped just short of corny. He began singing the melancholy lyrics, adding a down-home, Appalachian sadness to his voice. The wind blustered and flung the notes into the wide sky.
Andrew remembered Keone?s impish grin and infectious laughter, which he?d thought so annoying at first. Andrew?s voice cracked a little. He finished the last few notes just as Linda reached his spot. She sat on a smaller rock next to Andrew?s perch on the big boulder.
Andrew waited for her to say something, but she didn?t. He almost started another song when she finally spoke.
?I tried to tell them, you know? But it sounded so stupid.? She wiped a tear from her eye, her hands trembling. ?And they wouldn?t say anything. They just looked at me and wouldn?t say a damn thing. Can you believe that shit?? She wiped her nose with her hand and wiped her hand on her pants. ?So I just kept talking and they still wouldn?t talk and then I?m babbling about a helicopter and God knows what.?
Andrew held his breath. Linda was about to lose it.
?And I just ran out of things to say. I looked at them and they looked at me and finally the woman opened her mouth to ask where Mike had gone.? Linda sighed, shook her head. She was emotionally drained. ?I didn?t know what to tell her. I said Mike had gone to take care of things. I didn?t even know what I meant by that, but the woman nodded and they loaded the body and that was it.?
She beat her fists against her knees. ?Goddammit! I left Chicago because I thought it would be quiet and safe here. What the fuck? I mean, just, what the
Mike watched her climb a moment, then turned his attention back to the Indians. They just stood on either
