Read The Loner: Inferno #12 Online

Authors: J.A. Johnstone

The Loner: Inferno #12 (16 page)

BOOK: The Loner: Inferno #12
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A set of carved double doors stood at the end of the hall. Luis knocked on them, and in response to a muffled voice from inside, he said, “Señor Kelly and the others are here, Capitán
.
”
The voice barked an order. Luis opened the doors and motioned for the visitors to go in.
The Kid wasn’t surprised by what he saw when he stepped inside with the others. They found themselves in a parlor with thick rugs on the floor, heavy furniture, and walls hung with more portraits, along with a number of modern rifles and crossed sabers. It was a man’s room, and the master of it stood on the other side of the room with a drink in his hand and a smile on his face.
Guzman was tall and lean, with a thick shock of salt-and-pepper hair. His pointed beard gave him a satanic look, The Kid thought. He wore an immaculate gray uniform with a crimson sash and a broad leather belt with a holstered revolver strapped to it.
The captain wasn’t alone in the room. With him stood a shorter, stocky figure in leggings, breechcloth, blousy blue shirt, and blue headband. The man’s square, dark face was set in iron-hard lines of hatred as he gazed at the newcomers.
“Señor Kelly,” Guzman said. “So good to see you and your amigos again. Tell me,
por favor
, why I should not allow our friend Salvatorio here and his men to take you out and see to it that you spend long hours shrieking and dying?”
Chapter 23
 
Kelly returned Guzman’s smile and didn’t miss a beat as he replied, “You could do that, certainly, Capitán. But if you did, it would cost you money in the long run.”
A stream of guttural language erupted from Salvatorio. The Kid didn’t speak any Apache, but he was pretty sure what the war chief was saying wasn’t flattering.
Kelly let Salvatorio’s unleashed venom run down, then went on. “There’s no rule that says the people you do business with have to like each other, Captain. I’m perfectly willing to back off and let you finish your transaction with Salvatorio. Then you and I can come to an arrangement of our own.”
“My business with the chief is already done,” Guzman said. “He was just leaving.”
“You might want to ask him to wait around for a while,” Kelly suggested. “The proposition I have for you involves him as well.”
Interest sparked in Guzman’s eyes. The Kid read greed there as well.
“Salvatorio’s associates are downstairs eating,” Guzman said. “I’ll have him taken to join them while you and I discuss matters, Kelly.”
The conversation made it pretty obvious the war chief didn’t speak or understand any English. Guzman spoke in rapid Spanish to Salvatorio, peppering the conversation with Apache words he must have picked up from dealing with the Indians. Salvatorio didn’t look happy, but he nodded curtly and turned to leave the room.
As he passed Kelly, his hand twitched a little toward the handle of the knife tucked behind his sash. The Kid saw Kelly’s hand shift slightly, moving closer to the butt of his gun. But both men controlled the impulse to kill, and Salvatorio left the room.
When the war chief was gone, Guzman said, “Come, have a drink with me, my friends. And while I am acquainted with three of these hombres, this one is a stranger to me.” He nodded toward The Kid.
“I do not like having strangers in my home,” Guzman continued. “Introduce us, Señor Kelly.”
“This is Morgan,” Kelly said. “Some folks call him The Kid. He’s riding with us now.”
“Ah.
El Keed,
” Guzman said, deliberately exaggerating the accent. “There have been others of your countrymen called by such a name, Señor Morgan, and they were all fast with a gun. Are
you
fast with a gun, as well?”
“Fast enough that I’m still alive,” The Kid replied.
The answer brought a laugh from Guzman. “An excellent response. At the end of the day, survival is the most important thing, is it not? Come, Señor Morgan, have a drink.”
Instead of the tequila, pulque, or mescal The Kid expected, Guzman poured snifters of what smelled like fine brandy. Tasted like it, too, The Kid discovered as he took a sip. It was more confirmation Guzman had expensive tastes. They all drank except Mateo.
“Now, what is this business you wish to discuss with me, Señor Kelly?”
Kelly tossed back the rest of his drink. “We have forty-four Apache scalps, Captain. Are you still paying a hundred dollars apiece?”
“A hundred in gold, in American dollars, yes,” Guzman replied with a nod. “As long as they are scalps from warriors. Women and children bring less, you know.”
“These scalps all came from Salvatorio’s war party.”
“I thought as much, from the way the chief reacted to the sight of you and your amigos. The Apaches hate you even more than they hate us.”
“That doesn’t bother me one blessed bit,” Kelly said.
“So, you wish to collect the bounty on these scalps you mention?”
“That’s right. And there are some more we’d like to collect as well.”
“More scalps, you mean?” Guzman asked with a frown.
“That’s right. Salvatorio and the rest of his men.”
For a long moment, Guzman just stared at Kelly. Then he said, “You are nothing if not audacious, señor. You know that a state of truce exists between me and the chief. Yet you come in here and ask me to jeopardize that state of peace simply so you can collect more blood money?”
A harsh note crept into Kelly’s voice. “Don’t talk to me about blood money, Captain. We’ve both stuffed plenty of it in our pockets.”
Anger flickered in Guzman’s dark eyes, but after a second he shrugged. “Go on. I cannot consider a plan if I do not know what it is.”
“I want the full bounty on the scalps we’ve already taken,” Kelly said firmly. “But as for the others, we’ll take half the money and you can have the other half.
And
you can blame the killings on us. Like you said, the Apaches already hate us. They can’t want us any deader than they already do.”
The Kid could tell Guzman was considering it. The Mexican government wanted the Apaches wiped out, but an army couldn’t do it. The Indians would just withdraw deeper into the mountains and hide until the soldiers grew tired and returned to where they came from.
The only way to get rid of the Apaches was piecemeal, killing smaller numbers of them when the opportunity presented itself, and for a job like that, scalphunters like Kelly and the others were the perfect tools.
The number of warriors still living in the mountain strongholds had already dwindled enough that sending the scalps of more than sixty Apache fighting men to Mexico City would be a definite feather in Guzman’s cap. As long as the politicians thought he was doing a good job, he could continue to play all sides against the others and keep amassing a small fortune from his slave trade. So the deal Kelly proposed would benefit Guzman in several different ways.
“What you suggest requires treachery on my part, Señor Kelly,” the captain finally said. “I would have to betray the chief. I am an honorable man.”
“Of course you are,” Kelly agreed without hesitation. “But a man’s word given to a primitive savage like Salvatorio ... well, that’s not really the same thing as giving your word to another gentleman, now is it?”
Guzman thought it over some more and slowly nodded. “What you say is true, Señor Kelly. If you were to do this, how would it be arranged?”
“The rest of Salvatorio’s men are close by, correct?”
Guzman nodded. “They wait a short distance south of here.”
“You need to get them inside the walls. Once they’re in, your men can open fire.”
“Which would be breaking the truce,” Guzman pointed out.
“If they’re all dead, who would ever know that? You could spread whatever rumor you wanted about it and say it was me and my friends who killed them.”
For a moment, Guzman looked like he could go along with that, but then his features hardened and he shook his head. “It will not work. The rest of the Apaches will not come inside the walls. Even if we threatened the lives of Salvatorio and the men with him, the others would not come in.”
“You’re not going to threaten anybody.” A sly smile stole over Kelly’s face. “You’re going to give them something they want, and that’s how my friends and I are going to earn our share of the bounty.”
“What do you mean by this?” Guzman asked, but The Kid suddenly had a pretty good idea of where Kelly was going with the plan.
He didn’t like it, either.
“You’re going to give those savages exactly what they want,” Kelly said again as he lifted a hand and made a sweeping gesture taking in himself, The Kid, Chess, Valdez, and Mateo. “You’re going to give them
us.”
Chapter 24
 
Guzman stared at Kelly for a long moment without speaking. Then he threw back his head and boomed out a hearty laugh. “No one can claim that you lack for audaciousness, Señor Kelly.” He echoed his own comment from a few minutes earlier.
“Wait just a minute,” Chess said. “Don’t you think if you’re going to offer us up as sacrificial lambs, Kelly, you ought to ask us about it first?”
Kelly turned to regard him coldly. “Don’t I do the thinking and make the decisions for this bunch, Chess?” Kelly’s voice was mild enough, but it held a steely undercurrent of menace.
Chess backed down a little by shrugging. “Sure you do. This business just sort of took me by surprise.”
“Anyway, we won’t be sacrificial lambs,” Kelly went on. “More like ... staked goats.” He grinned. “Staked goats with guns.”
He turned to Guzman and continued. “You can tell Salvatorio that you took us prisoner and decided to turn us over to him if he’ll assemble all his men in the courtyard out there. Act like you want to make a big show out of it. He’ll understand that.”
Guzman nodded. “Yes, yes, go on.”
“It’ll look like we’re disarmed, but we’ll have guns under our shirts. The Apaches come marching in, figuring they’re going to have a fine old time torturing us to death, and as soon as they’re all through the gates, your men open fire on them from the parapet. We’ll pull out our own guns and get in on it.”
“If I were to do this thing, all the Apaches must die,” Guzman cautioned. “Every one. None can escape to carry the tale back to their stronghold.”
“We can make sure of that, Captain. They’ll all die.” Kelly smiled. “Then we split the money for those scalps, and everybody is happy. Except for Salvatorio and the rest of his savages, of course. By then they won’t be feeling a thing. The rest of the Apaches will never know the truth.” He hesitated. “That is, if you can control your men and make sure they don’t say anything.”
Guzman’s bearded chin jutted out as if he were insulted by the suggestion that he might not be able to control his men. “My Rurales are loyal to me! My thoughts are their thoughts, my words are their words.”
“In that case, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Kelly said.
“It sounds as if it might work.” Guzman gave a thoughtful nod.
“There’s just one more thing. Salvatorio brought some prisoners in here with him tonight.”
Guzman looked surprised. “How do you know that?” Before Kelly could answer, he went on. “Yes, yes, you’ve been trailing them, I remember. You have seen the women?”
“Not close up yet.”
Guzman chuckled and moved to the sideboard to pour more brandy into his glass. “They are all quite attractive, the blonde and the redhead most of all. The blonde is not what you would call beautiful, but she has a fire to her. Any man fortunate enough to share his bed with her would have a challenge on his hands,
mi amigo
!” Guzman downed some of the brandy and licked his lips. “You and your men want to spend some time with the women before I send them to my associates in Mexico City, is that it?”
“Actually, we want to take the women with us, as part of our share in the payoff,” Kelly said.
Guzman stared at him, lips tightening into a thin line. The captain shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. The women are going to Mexico City. As I said, you and your men may spend some time with them—none of them are virgins, after all, so that will not affect their value—but that is all. If you insist on this ...”
The tone of unspoken menace that hung in the air as Guzman’s voice trailed off made the threat clear. He could always turn Kelly and his men over to the Apaches for real, then double-cross Salvatorio.
Kelly held up both hands, palms out. “Don’t get me wrong, Captain. I’m not insisting on anything. It was just a proposal, that’s all.”
“It was a foolish one,” Guzman snapped. “Do we have a bargain?”
Kelly nodded. “We have a bargain.”
“Very well. I see no point in waiting. Surrender your guns.”
Valdez said, “I don’t like giving up my guns. How do we know we can trust this hombre?”
Guzman’s eyes glittered icily as he sneered at Valdez. “Kelly, speak to this peasant who works for you.”
Valdez stiffened in anger.
Kelly said quickly, “Lupe, take it easy. We have to make it look good for the Apaches. If we’re going to do that, we can’t be packing iron. You can keep one gun. Just hide it under your shirt.”
The Irishman glanced at Guzman to make sure that was all right. Guzman gestured in a superior fashion to indicate that it was.
The Kid found himself in the unusual position of agreeing with Valdez. He didn’t like giving up his guns, either. But Kelly had a point about making it look good. The Kid took his Colt from its holster and tucked it behind his belt at the small of his back, letting the tail of his buckskin shirt hang over the gun butt so it was hidden.
“Knives, too,” Kelly said. “Everybody shuck all your weapons except one gun.”
It didn’t take long for the men to prepare. Guzman suggested that they leave their hats behind, too, and make their clothing look like they had been in a fight. They needed to look disheveled, disarmed, and helpless the next time the Apaches saw them.
While they were doing that, Guzman called his clerk Luis into the room and explained the plan to him, so he could pass the necessary orders on to the rest of the Rurales. The young man listened intently, his narrow face expressionless.
When Guzman was finished, Luis nodded. “Sí, Commandante,” he said, then hurried out.
A short time later, eight Rurales with rifles showed up.
“These men will escort you down to the courtyard and act as your guards,” Guzman explained. “If they treat you roughly in any way, it will only be to make things look more convincing to Salvatorio.”
Valdez growled something under his breath. He wasn’t going to like being pushed around, The Kid thought, but he would put up with it in order to collect more bounty money.
“One more thing,” Guzman said to Kelly. “After our business is concluded, you and your men must leave and stay away from here for a while. I want no trouble at this time from the remaining Apaches in the area, so I must maintain the impression that I oppose your activities.”
“I reckon we can do that,” Kelly said. “Until next time we have some scalps to sell.”
The Kid spoke up for the first time in a while. “You mean for us to leave tonight?”
“What would hold you here,
Keed
?” Guzman asked with his annoyingly smug smile. Then understanding dawned on his face. “Ah, I see. It is not what holds you, but rather what you wish to hold. The women. Am I correct?”
The Kid had to know where the prisoners were being held if he was going to have any chance of rescuing them, and what better way to find out than to have the Rurales show him?
He shrugged. “You told us we could spend some time with them.”
“Indeed I did, and I suppose it would not hurt anything for you men to spend the night here. But we will discuss it when our business is concluded. Is that satisfactory for you,
Keed
?”
“You’re the boss,” The Kid said.
“And you will do well to remember that.” Guzman gestured to the Rurales. “Take them to the courtyard. I’ll wait a few minutes and then fetch Salvatorio and the men he brought with him.”
As they left the room with the armed men following them, Kelly said quietly to The Kid, “I already did my best to get you what you wanted, Morgan. Don’t go pushing Guzman or you’ll foul this up for us. All he needs is an excuse to double-cross us, and he may try to do it even without one.”
“He promised us time with the women,” The Kid whispered back.
“Are you that anxious to say good-bye to your sweetheart? I like you, Kid, and you’ve been a good addition to the bunch, but I’ll cut you loose in a second if I have to. See how long you last with Guzman on your own.”
“I’m not going to ruin anything. Don’t worry.”
Kelly’s frown made it clear that he
was
going to worry, though, at least until the deal reached its bloody conclusion.
Men were hurrying along the parapets and getting into position as the group reached the courtyard in front of the headquarters building. A burly Rurale came up behind Valdez and without warning kicked the back of his knee, making Valdez’s leg buckle underneath him.
“Get down, dogs!” the Rurale ordered loudly in Spanish. “On your knees, all of you!”
Guzman had warned that they might be roughed up. Even so, the severity of it surprised The Kid as another guard moved up behind him and rammed the butt of his rifle between The Kid’s shoulder blades. The blow knocked him to the ground.
All around him, more Rurales closed in and battered Kelly, Chess, and Mateo off their feet as well. Booted feet thudded into ribs as the Rurales kicked them. As The Kid rolled away from one of the blows, he caught a glimpse of the small group of men standing on the porch of the headquarters building. Guzman had emerged from the building with Salvatorio and two more Apaches.
Salvatorio wore a grim smile as he watched the scalp hunters being mistreated by the guards.
The Rurales stepped back and covered The Kid and the other men with their rifles. Guzman spoke in Spanish to Salvatorio, who nodded and turned to grunt a command in Spanish to one of his lieutenants. The man trotted across the courtyard toward the gates.
Guzman called the order to open the gates. The Apache messenger slipped between them and disappeared into the night.
It looked like everything was going as planned, The Kid thought. Salvatorio had sent the runner to bring the rest of the Apaches to the compound, where they would take the so-called prisoners and lead them away to a grisly fate.
Valdez muttered in Spanish as he lay there beside The Kid, who understood just enough to know that the Mexican was talking about killing somebody when it was over. The Kid didn’t know who Valdez meant specifically, but there were plenty of possibilities.
Minutes dragged by while they waited. Chess whispered, “What’s going on, Kelly? Something’s gone wrong.”
“Take it easy. It’ll take a few minutes for the rest of the savages to get here.”
From the corner of his eye, The Kid saw Guzman and Salvatorio step down from the porch and walk toward them. Salvatorio drew his knife. It would ruin everything if the war chief decided to start carving them up before the rest of the Apaches walked into the trap, The Kid thought. None of the “prisoners” was going to lie there and allow himself to be tortured just to keep up the masquerade.
Salvatorio didn’t use the knife. He started spitting on them. As a glob of warm spittle landed on the back of his neck, The Kid reined in the anger he felt. Soon enough, the courtyard would explode into violence and death, and he would be right in the middle of it. Time enough then to let his anger out.
He heard hinges squeal and lifted his head to see the gates opening again. They swung wide, so the rest of the Apache war party could ride inside the compound. Salvatorio called to his men with triumph and cruel satisfaction in his voice. The Kid didn’t have to understand the words to grasp the hatred they contained.
The Apaches dismounted, and together they walked toward their chief and the men who lay at his feet. Guzman and the rest of the Rurales began to pull back. The men at the gates started swinging the massive portals closed again.
With all those things going on, the Apaches should have suspected a trick. But all their attention was focused on the scalp hunters they despised so much, and their thoughts were filled with the bloody vengeance they would soon take on their enemies.
But something else was wrong.
“Kelly,” The Kid said in a low, urgent voice. “They’re going to wait until the Apaches are all around us to open fire! We’ll be killed, too!”
A curse exploded from Kelly. “You’re right. Guzman’s double-crossing us! We’ll see about that, by God!”
Kelly surged to his feet, reaching under his shirt as he did so. Salvatorio was only a few steps away from him. The war chief’s eyes widened in surprise, and he brought his knife up as if to defend himself.
The blade was no defense against a bullet. Kelly yanked a revolver from under his shirt, jerked the barrel up, and thumbed off a shot that blew a good-sized chunk of Salvatorio’s brain right out the back of his head.
BOOK: The Loner: Inferno #12
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