Dog Soldiers (47 page)

Driving in, they had been
trying to make contact on a bat
tery transmitter over the citizen
’
s band; an elaborate code had been prepared to disg
uise the substance of their con
versations. But there had been no contact, the hills had been in the way.

“
Well, I hope you
’
ll be able to use them going in,
”
Antheil said.
“
Otherwise things may get pretty fucked up.
”

Angel looked at Danskin and Smitty as though they aroused some dreadful appetite. He bent
to the car win
dow to look in at Converse. Converse nodded to him.

Angel was a policeman in the adjoining Mexican state, and in the past he and Antheil had collaborated in matters relating to law enforcement. In the spirit of
alianza para progreso
, they had gone drinking and Antheil, who prided himself on the knowledg
eable finesse with which he han
dled Latins, had found the
evening trying and even danger
ous. Sober, Angel was a public man of massive, somewhat grim, dignity. In liquor he became sullen and contentious. Simpatico as he was, Antheil
’
s Spanish was uneven. Several times in the course of their revels he had inadvertently given offense to Angel in
matters which, to his own under
standing, were trivial in the extreme. There had been a period during which it appeared that Angel — whom he was after all engaging as a bodyguard — might shoot him. Angel had recounted many stories illustrating his own prowess and cunning as a police officer, and Antheil had been compelled to simulate intense admiration.

Angel was sober once aga
in, but it had been ill prepara
tion for the day
’
s business. When they arrived to find truckloads of people encam
ped at the derelict village, An
theil became even more uneasy.

He paced up and down beside the cars, holding a Geol
og
ical Survey map in one hand and fingering the corners of his mustache with the other.

“
You
’
re about two miles from the ranch property. There are two trails going up to the house, and you
’
ll find them marked on here.
”
He handed Danskin the map.
“
Can you
read it?”

Danskin looked at the map in sullen silence.

Antheil cleared this throat and glanced at Angel.

“
There
’
s some kind of lettuce-pickers
’
convention going on down the road where the trails start. There are a lot of Mexican people there. My friend here has indicated to me that they are members of a
Pentecostal
church and that they come here every year. The houses they
’
re in are outside the ranch property, and so far as we know there
’
s no con
nection between them and Dieter Bechstein.
”

“
Wait a minute,
”
Danskin said.
“
That changes things a lot, right?
”

“
It doesn
’
t change anything. If I understand the cultural pattern correctly, they should be more hostile to the people up the hill than to us. Angel and I just drove through. There are no phone wir
es on any of the houses, and no
body looked twice at us.
”
He stopped pacing and placed his hands on his hips.
“
In fact,
”
he said,
“
you might attempt to determine if these people are actively hostile to the creeps up there. You may be able to utilize their assistance. They may have specialized knowledge about access routes.
”

“
You know,
”
Danskin said with a faint smile,
“
this is dif
ferent from what we figured.
”

“
That
’
s correct,
”
Antheil said.
“
And let me make one thing clear. By tomorrow afternoon we are
going to act of
ficially. There will be local police involvement. There will be regulation procedure and there will be arrests. There will be confiscations.
”

“
So,
”
Danskin said.
“
We have until tomorrow afternoon to get it off them. Are you going in with us?
”

“
To some extent.
”

“
What the hell do you mean, to some extent?
”

“
We
’
ll be here to back you up. We don
’
t want to get smeared all over this thing, you know.
”
Danskin moved closer
to Antheil and fixed mad sorrow
ful eyes on him.

“
I thought you had this place cased, man. You said you had maps and shit.
”
He
looked with distaste at the sur
rounding hills.
“
We don
’
t know what the fuck we
’
re doing down here. We don
’
t know how many people they got up there, for Christ
’
s sake.
”

Antheil met his eyes resolutely.

“
We
’
re almost sure there are no more than two or three.
”
He looked at Converse in the station wagon.
“
His wife, Hicks and Bechstein.
”

Danskin nodded sulkily.

Antheil strolled over to the station wagon and leaned his arm on the window.

“
Hi there, fella. Gonna help us out?
”

“
Sure thing,
”
Converse said.

“
How?
”
Danskin asked.
“
How
’
s he gonna help us out?
”

“
He
’
s gonna have a word with his old lady. You
’
re going to arrange a reunion.
”

“
She
’
ll tell him to fuck off,
”
Smitty said.

“
I don
’
t think so. You send him ahead of you — keep him where you can see him
, and see what it gets you. Per
sonally, I think it should have some psychological effect.
”

“
I don
’
t see it myself,
”
Danskin said.

“
Do it anyway,
”
Antheil said.
“
What could we do, leave him up in the city pissing his pants? I want the principals in one place.
”

He glanced in at Converse again and smiled at him.

“
He
’
s fun, huh?
”

Danskin looked sour.

“
Sure. Let
’
s get going.
”

When they started the car and pulled out, Antheil walked after them.

“
Any mishaps—get out of it by first light. I
’
m not kid
ding—we
’
ll be all over cops.
”

Antheil and Angel watched sadly as they pulled back onto the road.

“
He
’
s not pissed off,
”
Converse said, when they were on their way.
“
He
’
s scared.
”

Danskin stopped the car at the side of the road.

“
You just shut the fuck up,
”
he told Converse.

“
From now on, keep your mouth shut.
”
He was turned around in the driver
’
s seat, in a rage.
“
You don
’
t say a word, not one word. When you
’
re supposed to talk, I
’
ll tell you.
”

“
O.K.,
”
Converse said.

In a few minutes they were driving by the houses which Antheil had described. People looked up scowling from their Bibles. The men stood together without speaking.

“
I don
’
t see no lettuce,
”
Smitty said.

They parked near the pit where the ruined tepee stood. A few yards away was a dusty Land-Rover with California plates. Smitty and Danskin got out of the car and walked over to it.

“
That
’
s gotta be theirs,
”
Smitty said.

They looked inside, peering under the seats and into the back.

Danskin laughed bitterly.

“
Look at it. It
’
s all over the place.
”

The chatter of playing children drifted over from the tent village beside the rows of parked trucks. People were singing in one of the clapboard houses. Five men in brown suits sat beside each other on a bench in front of the largest structure. Smitty sauntered toward them, nodding his head to the junkie beat, projecting deranged menace at anyone within sight of him.

“
They
’
re all dressed up,
”
he told Danskin.

“
Maybe it
’
s a wedding.
”

“
Christ,
”
Smitty said.
“
I thought we
’
d have a bunch of twisted wetbacks over here.
”

A small Willys jeep pulled up on the road behind them, and they turned toward the sound. Behind the wheel, a Mexican in a Stetson sat watching them. There was a rifle in a gun rack in the seat behind him.

When they walked toward him, he put the jeep in gear.

“
Wait a minute,
señor
,”
Danskin said.

The Mexican turned his engine off and waited for them to come up. He was looking at their car, and at Converse, who had stayed in the rear seat.

“
You live here?
”
Danskin asked.

Smitty took the rifle from the rack and inspected it.

The man nodded.

“
Up the hill there — there
’
s some freaks living up there, am I right?

“
Freaks,
”
Danskin insisted when the man was silent.

“
Hippies. Long-hairs.
”

The man stared as though he had never heard of such
ones.

“
Hey man, there
’
s a house up there. There
’
s people liv
ing in it, right?
”

“
A house,
”
the Mexican said.
“
Somebody there — I don
’
t know.
”

“
You don
’
t know? You don
’
t know whose vehicle that is?
”

The Mexican shrugged.

“
Hippies,
”
he said.

“
This fuckin
’
guy,
”
Smitty began.

Danskin silenced him with a gesture.

“
How can we get up there?
”

The man looked up the hill as though he were pondering it.
“
We don
’
t go there,
”
he said.
“
But you know the way, don
’
t you,
señor
?
”