wagon like a camel smelling a well.
Downey cut so hard that he jumped the ramp at the bottom. The fence protected only the ramps and the big highway itself. He went straight in across country, dropping into the pickup’s bottom range. The field was in snap beans, nearly ready for the pickers. His rear wheels kicked out torn plants and soft dirt.
The trailer stayed upright, stopping only fifty feet from the wagon. He dropped Werner, who ran ahead. Downey came swerving in and stopped with the trailer in his lights. Inside, the fire was crackling nicely, but it was giving off little heat. He was able to get almost to the bedroom window, through which earlier he had seen the kidnapped man on the bed. This was the one room not ablaze. There still might be time.
He heard a yell from Werner. Turning, he saw a plume of water erupt from the tank and start a long sweep to the right and the left. Downey felt mist blow in his face. The main arc, however, was missing the trailer by twenty feet. Werner struggled with the short hose on the turret’s fixed arm. He managed to free it. It lashed around madly, spraying everything at random. He worked his hands toward the nozzle, brought it under control, and aimed the powerful stream at the fire. Perhaps by accident, he caught Downey in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Correcting his aim, he sent a cascade of water through the bedroom window.
The van Greco had appropriated proved to be unexpectedly agile. The brakes were so good that when he touched them lightly to get the feel the sudden check nearly sent him into the glass.
“This baby has power.”
The needle hit seventy in no time at all. Nick was worrying about what they would do when they overtook the trailer. They couldn’t attempt the same trick a second time because the gas can was empty.
“Bottle gas,” Greco said. “These things carry stoves. Look in back.”
“Bottle gas! That stuff can blow your ass off. I’ll drive this time. You throw.”
“No, it worked, it worked! Burning like a son of a bitch.”
In the fields to the right, they saw the burning trailer. So, after all, some of the improvised cocktail had taken effect. Greco stopped so they could watch the finish.
There was a noise in back, and somebody groaned. They looked at each other.
“We got company,” Greco said.
Then water jetted up out of a standing wagon and began to fall on the flames. The smoke changed color. Another minute or two and the fire would be out. They would transfer Canada to the pickup and be on their way. An attack on that crowd with only one gun was out of the question.
“Up and down all night,” Nick said. “Up and down. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“No, listen, if we can keep them back from the fire-”
And he was out and running. He went through the break in the fence, going flat on his face after five steps. He saw two figures near the trailer, one more on the wagon. He brought out the gun. All he had to do was knock the man off the wagon, then pop off a shot or two to persuade the others to keep their heads down. The fire would take hold again, and soon nothing would be left of Canada but bones and charred flesh.
He was breathing hard from the run, and he couldn’t get the sights to hold steady. He fired anyway. The bullet hit the tank and went singing away, going nowhere. The guy dropped to the ground, but the nozzle was wedged in place, and water continued to splash into the trailer. Maybe Canada would swallow enough smoke so he wouldn’t wake up. Maybe not, too. It would be so nice to make sure.
Then he saw Nick running in a wide circle, heading for the wagon. Greco had to revise his opinion of the boy. He had been nothing but a drag so far, clowning when he wasn’t complaining, and then finally losing his gun. But even to think about climbing on that wagon, that took balls.
He came up on one knee. The minute Nick started his climb, he intended to waste a couple just for the hell of it. All Nick had to do was give the nozzle one swipe and then slide to the ground. In movies, people did things like that all the time.
And there the prick was, edging along the top of the tank. Greco kept swiveling, watching for movement. Sure enough, a head came up, but in an unexpected place. The guy had fooled him by wriggling between the bean rows. He fired at Nick, Nick fell forward against the nozzle. The stream’s force flung him off the tank, leaving the nozzle whipping about like something alive. At the trailer, flames appeared again almost at once amid the masses of smoke.
Everybody was out of sight again, and Greco dropped out of sight also. Now he would find out if any of those jokers was man enough to climb up the way Nick had done and redirect the hose. Greco was closer now, and he was feeling the heat. This was one shot he didn’t intend to miss.
The trailer was burning from one end to the other. Larry Canada was done for, and Greco and Nick could collect their money. Abruptly the hose stopped lashing around and hung down lankly, with only a dribble coming out. And then there was an immense bang from the trailer, sending a column of sparks and flame hundreds of feet in the air.
Chapter 14
The search for contraband drugs at the trailer park had left the interior of the pickup a tangled mess. The beds had been pulled apart. When the brakes went on hard, Shayne was thrown to the floor.
“There goes our million bucks,” a voice said in the cab.
The woman shouted something, and the pickup began bucking and plunging. It came to a stop, and everybody piled out, Shayne and Frieda moving more cautiously than the three in front. Shayne saw the burning trailer, the three running figures. In a moment, a new grouping took shape, and water began to fall on the fire.
“How are we going to do this?” Frieda said.
“Wait for Tim. We can pin them down here until he gets us some cops.”
On the highway, the big van slowed to a stop. Shayne blinked his flashlight twice, shielding the beam. A figure appeared, as though in response to the signal.
“It’s not Tim,” Frieda said.
Shayne looked around quickly. Whoever Frieda had seen had dropped out of sight.
Here was a new factor, and until Shayne could see how it fitted in, they would have to watch the action without taking part. They moved back from the truck. He heard a stealthy, animal-like movement behind him, and a figure passed within a few feet. It was the youth who had thrown the bomb. Now he was bare from the waist up- stick-figure arms, shoulder blades that stuck out like cleavers. There were two sides here, and both sides must believe Larry Canada was a prisoner in the trailer. Beyond that, Shayne had to wait and see.
The fire had almost been brought under control when the bare-chested youth climbed onto the wagon and took a shot in the stomach, dislodging the hose as he fell. A moment later the trailer was blazing again. The tire exploded, blowing out several of the riveted panels. The entire interior was now one mass of flame.
Shayne heard a stifled exclamation from Frieda. The van on the highway was beginning to move.
“Somebody’s driving off with our fat man,” she said.
“Let’s go get them.”
They returned to the truck. He let out the clutch the instant the motor took hold, and they shot forward. He felt a wash of heat as they passed the fire. Somebody jumped aside. He had a gun in his hand, and so did Frieda. Neither one fired.
Downey, his hand raised against the heat, backed away. He saw the pickup start for the gap in the fence and yelled to Pam, “Werner-the son of a bitch is taking off. We should have got rid of that bastard when we had the chance.”
Then Werner himself came running past. He gave Downey a look with murder in it and disappeared in the darkness. That might be a good example for everybody to follow. The fire trucks would be showing up any minute now.
Pam was still on her knees, looking pale and sick. To bring her out of it, Downey flicked the side of her face with his fingers as he went past. “Let’s go, let’s go-”
The damn place was as bright as day. He had counted two people. Two vehicles had driven off. But suddenly he was convinced that there was someone he hadn’t counted, a marksman, who even now was aiming a high-
