William W. Johnstone (22 page)

The warlords and outlaws had gathered in Colorado. Calling them a motley crew would be understating the matter. This gathering was the largest meeting of malcontents, trash, scum, and human filth to come together in years. One would be hard-pressed to find one redeeming quality in the entire force.

Their names were what one might expect from men of such low degree: Booger, Utah Jack, Pisser, Stud, Big Luke, Flash, Long Tongue … and so it went.

Some had roamed the country together for more than a decade, raping, robbing, killing, having their way wherever they chose and however they wanted it.

But they were always careful to abide by one hard and fast rule: Stay away from areas controlled by Ben Raines and his Rebels.

Now they felt they were strong enough to tackle Ben Raines and his Rebels—and come out on top.

“You trust Sam Hartline?” Plano asked Grizzly.

“No. Least not no hundred percent. He knows that we know he’s usin’ us. He also knows he can’t do much of nothin’ about it. We got to have him; he’s got to have us.”

“How ‘bout these here A-rabs you was tellin’ us about?” Buck asked.

“Colonel Khamsin. A Hot Wind.”

“So’s a fart,” Booger said.

“Lemme put it another way,” Grizzly said. “Khamsin impresses Sam Hartline.”

That was enough to sober the outlaws. Sam Hartline might be a mercenary, but he was no dummy. If Khamsin had enough beef behind him to impress Hartline … well, that was good enough for the outlaws.

“And now we do what? …” Booger asked.

“We contact Hartline and wait for word. Way I figure it is Hartline will use us to mop up what’s left of Raines’s Rebels.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The rest of the outlaws gathered around laughed. “Just think,” one said, straining his brain. “There must be four or five million pussies left in the States.”

“So?” Skinhead asked.

“Without Ben Raines and his people standing in our way, hell, man! They’re all ours!”

“Yeah!” they breathed. “I like it!” Skinhead slobbered.

“I don’t like it, Ben,” Cecil said. “You’re deliberately setting yourself up for a lot of trouble.”

“Reading between the lines, Cec,” Ben replied, smiling, “it would be a good plan if I weren’t planning on leading it. Right?”

Cecil muttered something extremely vulgar under his breath.

“I must concur with General Jefferys, sir,” Dan said. “You are needed here. Not traipsing about the countryside, shooting outlaws.”

“I got to go along with them, Ben,” Ike said. “Let me take the unit out after the out laws.”

“I shall go!” Dan said.

“No, I’ll go!” Cecil said.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” Ben put an end to it.

Ben started sending his unit out in the darkness of night. As quietly as possible, running without lights. He had ordered his Rebels to bandage various parts of their bodies; to limp and stagger as if badly hurt. To be helped into the waiting trucks.

He knew Hartline had long-range recon teams watching the base camp through long lenses. And he knew Khamsin’s people were close-by, watching. Maybe they would think the badly wounded were being trucked back to Base Camp One.

Maybe it would work long enough for Ben’s unit to get close to the outlaws.

Maybe.

Ben and his personal team would be the last to pull out. Just moments before leaving, Ben walked to Sylvia’s quarters.

She was sitting in a chair, as if expecting him.

The man and woman looked at each other in the sputtering light of a camp lantern.

“I cannot tolerate a traitor,” Ben broke the silence.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

“I’ve suspected for some time.”

“But you don’t know or understand why I did it, do you, Ben?”

“No. I’d like to be able to say I’m not particularly interested. But I’d be lying.”

“We had something good beginning, Ben.”

“Using vernacular before you were born: You blew it, kid.”

“It isn’t too late, Ben.”

“I could never trust you, Sylvia. Not ever again. You see, kid, I knew someone like you years ago. Back when the nation was whole. I fell hard for her. The only difference being, ours was a purely Platonic relationship. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“As a matter of fact, you look a lot like her. You have many of her mannerisms. Perhaps that’s why I felt something for you I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

“You must have loved her a great deal, Ben.”

Memories took Ben winging back over the years. She slipped into his mind, as she did from time to time. He had never spoken of her, not to anyone—ever. He had been about twenty years older than the girl—and even though she was in her twenties, she was still a girl. A girl in a woman’s body.

And he loved her then, almost as strongly as he loved her now.

The tough ex-soldier and ex-soldier-of-fortune-turned-writer had fallen asshole over elbows in love.

If she had asked for the stars and the moon, Ben would have somehow gotten them for her.

Yet, so it seemed, to Ben, every time he turned around, she was crapping all over him.

Ben almost drank himself to death over a period of a few months … until he slowly began wising up and realizing what the young woman really was. Greedy, grasping, ungrateful, petty, petulant. A very pretty but shallow person.

And she had taken him like a schoolboy enduring the pain of first love.

And it still hurt.

Ben looked at Sylvia. “How much have you told Khamsin’s people?”

“Troop strength. Placement. Plans for the future. Everything I knew.”

“Why, Sylvia?”

“They have my father.”

“How do you know it’s him? I thought you told me he was dead?”

“He fits the description. It’s him.”

“Why didn’t you just come to me and tell me?”

“I didn’t think.”

“That’s right …” He almost called her by another name. She didn’t think either. Only of now. Never of the future.

Ben felt he was reliving the past.

“You’ve probably gotten some Rebels killed, Sylvia. Have you thought about that?”

“I don’t
care
about that. It’s my father.”

“If he fell in with Khamsin, then he must be a sorry bastard.”

She did not reply. But Ben saw her right hand move ever so slowly toward her right boot. She carried a knife there.

“You know what happens to traitors, Sylvia,” he said softly.

“I love you, Ben.”

“You’re a liar.” Just like … her.

“How do you know that? You can’t be sure.”

“I’ve been here before, kid. Unfortunately, I know your type very well.”

“Asshole!” she hissed at him. “We all have one.”

“Aren’t you afraid of dying, Ben Raines?” she asked him.

“Not particularly.” He smiled. “But it always seems to come at such an inconvenient time. Doesn’t it, kid?”

She came up fast, the double-edged dagger in her right hand.

Ben shot her right between her flashing green eyes. The.45 slug tore out the back of her head, lashing the wall behind her with fluid and gray matter and bits of bone. Sylvia slumped to the floor.

Ben walked out of the house just as Rebels came running.

Ike was the first to reach Ben. Ben cut sad eyes to his friend.

“Tell the underground people to destroy the IPA’s forward recon team, Ike.”

“Okay, Ben. Jesus, Ben! What happened in there?”

“A twenty-year-old one-sided love affair just ended, Ike.”

“What?”

Ben walked away, the.45 in his hand. Ike noticed two things about his friend, as Ben walked into the velvet of night.

The man seemed to be a bit lonelier.

And Ben Raines was crying.

“What the hell’s he up to, now?” Sam Hartline said, more to himself than to the other mercenaries gathered in Hartline’s command post.

“Pullin’ his wounded out, looks like.”

“Maybe. But why didn’t he fly them out? That’s what he usually does.”

No one had an answer to that.

“Anyone spotted Raines today?” Hartline asked.

“Our guys had to pull back. Things were gettin’ too hot. The recon team from Khamsin bought it early this morning. Our guys got a little edgy and moved deeper into the timber.”

Hartline nodded his handsome head. “Those weirdos that live in the caves?”

“Yeah.”

Sam Hartline walked to a window and looked out. “Raines is up to something. I just don’t know what. But what I don’t want to do is butt heads with him just yet. We might be able to take him, but it would cost us. And Oregon just isn’t worth it,”

“You want me to contact Khamsin?” Sam was asked.

Hartline shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s find out where that convoy went first. See if you can get ahold of those bikers. Ask them—no,
tell
them, to keep their heads up, stay alert. Raines is about to pull something. Sneaky son of a bitch.”

“How’s Rich?” a mercenary asked, a smile on his face.

Hartline laughed. “He has just about outlived his usefulness. Any of you guys want him?” No one did.

“I hate to just shoot the little bastard. He gives great head,” Hartline said. “And he’s like a whipped dog. He’ll do anything you tell him to do.” Hartline dismissed Rich with a curt wave of his hand. “I’ll keep him around until I get tired of fuckin’ with him.” Sam laughed. “I been tryin’ to get him to pork Lisa, but he won’t do it.”

Sam had left her alone for a couple of days, and some of the soreness had eased within her. Lisa had thought of and rejected a dozen plans of escape. Rich was always with her, watching, ready to tattle.

“You’re a fool, Lisa!” Rich spat the words at her. “Why don’t you be nice to Sam? He’d make it a lot easier on you if you’d just be nice to him.”

“Like you’re nice to him?” Lisa’s words were scornful.

“I’ll slap you!” Rich hissed.

“I’ll kick your ass, too!” Lisa backed him down.

“He’ll get tired of you, Lisa, if you don’t start being nice to him. Then he’ll give you to his men. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, bitch?”

“No, I wouldn’t, Rich.” Her smile was not nice, filled with knowing. “But you would.”

“God, I hate you!”

“Rich, if we worked together, we could get out of here.”

“Why should I? I’ve got it made here. I have plenty to eat, nice clothes to wear, I can bathe every day in hot water and good-smelling soap. Sam likes me.”

“Sure, Rich. Just as long as you suck him off, that is.”

“I know you hate me.”

“Rich, I don’t hate you for what you are. That’s your business. Your right. You can stay here or leave. That’s up to you. I’m just asking you to help me get out. Will you?”

They both heard Hartline enter the fine house. Rich jumped up and ran out of the room.

“Sam! Sam!” Rich yelled. “Lisa’s trying to get me to help her escape!”

Sam walked into the room and looked at Lisa. “You stupid bitch. You don’t know what side your bread is buttered on, do you?”

Lisa sat on the floor, looking up at him.

Sam slowly removed his belt. “Strip, baby. I guess I’m going to have to break you like a goddamned horse.”

Lisa made up her young mind. “I’ll die first,” she said.

“That’s a distinct possibility, baby,” Sam told her. “But if I can’t break you, then I’ll give you to my men. And if you think I’m kinky, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Lisa jumped from the floor and tried to run out the door. Rich tripped her, sending her sprawling. She felt her jeans being ripped from her and Sam’s laughter ringing in her head.

“I gave you a chance, pretty thing,” Sam said. “I guess you were born to like it rough.”

She was jerked to her knees and the leather began singing and popping against her flesh.

“We get to ambush a convoy of wounded Rebels,” Plano said to Grizzly. “They’ll be here in a couple of days. And they’re headin’ right for us.”

“How many?”

“Hell, what difference does it make? For chrissakes, they’re all shot up. Piece of cake.”

“Any women with ‘em?” Big Luke asked.

“Sure. And about a platoon of Rebels escortin’ them. Let’s start gettin’ set.”

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” a biker said. “That goddamned Ben Raines has been a pain in the ass for years. I was down in Arkansas when him and them Rebels rolled in. Run me and my boys out. Didn’t even give us a chance. I’m gonna really like this.”

“Did they fall for it?” Ben asked James.

“Scouts report they did. They’re getting into ambush position.” He pointed to a spot on a map of Colorado. “Right there.”

“How many?”

“About three hundred of them. The others have spread out north and south.”

“They picked a pretty good spot for it,” Ben conceded. “Have they mined the road?”

“Negative, Ben. They’ve got some dynamite and grenades, but no mines that our observers can detect.”

“Straight bang-bang, shoot-'em-up ambush, huh? They must think we’re idiots.”

“I don’t know what they think, Ben. I would imagine most of them are very stupid and very arrogant. And that’s a bad combination.”

“Lucky for us, though. All right, James. Send First Platoon to the north, Second Platoon to the south. How about those vehicles we found?”

“They’ll run long enough to get the people there.”

“That’s all that matters. Tell our teams to skirt the outlaws north and south and get into position on the east end of the highway. Wait for our signal.”

“Why are you doing this, Ben?” James asked. “Why the bikers first?”

“Saving the best for last, James. Hartline is going to be a tough nut to crack.”

“You really want to kill him, don’t you, Ben?”

Ben nodded. “Hartline doesn’t know it. But he’s a walking-around dead man.”

The outlaws had indeed chosen a fine place for an ambush. If the person they wished to ambush had not been Ben Raines, that is.

Ben was often referred to by his enemies as being a sneaky son of a bitch. The latter was totally incorrect. The former summed it up quite well.

The outlaws and warlords and their motley crews had gathered on both sides of the interstate, carefully hidden among the rocks and brush on each sloping side of the carved-through mountain. They lay in wait with automatic weapons and grenades.