24 -- The trap

 

 

Something moved.

 At first, Jimmy thought it might have been a jack rabbit. Nocturnal life in the desert was richer than people thought, as thriving as a jungle. Sometimes he came out before dawn with a low-caliber rifle to beat the sand for supper. Only now, it wasn't a low-caliber rifle in his hand, or jack rabbits he was hunting.

 On either side of him, others waited, laying siege to the dusty warehouse. Mister Gil had ordered them here, something startling his instinct for danger-- though lately, Jimmy worried about the man, seeing the fear in his eyes. Something haunted him.

 Movement to the left. A flash of something near the corner of the building. Not a light, but a reflected bit of metal in the starlight. Everything else stayed dark. He glimpsed a figure moving across the pale stucco wall of the building, dressed dark for the dark work of a thief.

 Jimmy glanced towards Mister Gil. But the man motioned for them to wait, as if wanting the figure to get inside where they could trap him better. God only knew what a thief wanted here-- a temporary storage place for their fleet of vehicles. Mister Gil had shut it down till the heat was off. The building contained only the silly hippie van.

 Jimmy waited. A good soldier obeying orders even when they didn't always make sense. Mister Gil had saved him from death on the citrus groves, giving him food, dope, and never once made him feel like a slave. Mister Gil rewarded loyalty and courage.

 Inside the building, real light appeared. Not much of it. Maybe a hand held over a flashlight beam with some spilling out between the fingers. But Mister Gil's little army stirred as the signal came for them to close in.

 Like always, Mister Gil went first, sleek form sweeping across open ground towards what had once been the front door. Broken frosted glass jutted from the frame like teeth, grinning out at the darkness. Another hand signal sent men around the sides, Jimmy moving along the western wall as part of the prearranged trap.

 It felt like TET again with the same throb in Jimmy's chest and head. Please God. Don't let me kill anyone tonight, he thought, though knew he would if he had to.

 Rule number one: Survive. His job was to secure the back door.

 Don't go inside, Mister Gil had said. I don't want us shooting at each other. Just sit and wait and let us flush the bastard out.

 So, he and two others scurried back to a low stone wall marking the property's rear boundary-- though boundaries out here meant little with so much open space. The fences had long ago decayed and faded away. A man could almost walk forever if he chose.

 Others moved in on the side, covering the window. Back here, two windows grinned out of the darkness with a huge garage door in between. Like a face, he thought, shifting his 30-06 to kill anything that moved.

 When the pop came, he almost didn't recognize it as a shot. A silencer had never been in the realm of his experience. But the man to his right slumped forward, something glistening down his cheeks. The second pop took out the man on his left, and by the time the third pop came, Jimmy rolled over the wall and to the side facing the building. The old panic leaped into his head. How many and where were they hiding?

 Survive, his instincts screamed as he rolled and crawled, waiting for the pop and flash that would locate his enemy. Was there one behind him in the building? Or had some flaw in the plan allowed the invader to detect the trap? Did the gap under the garage door mean something.

 Pop! Pop!

 He didn't see the flash, but felt his head rolling forward, even before the pain rushed up from his chest, bringing down blackness...

                                                                   ***********

 Gil shoved open the door then stood there. Mike leaped to his feet.

 "What's wrong?" Mike asked. "What happened?"

 The smile plastered to the man's face didn't fool him; rage boiled in the eyes.

 "Happened, friend?" Gil said, staring hard at Mike. "What could have happened?"

 "I thought..."

 "You're mistaken," Gil said. "I've come to inform you that you are free to leave in the morning."

 "Free?" boomed Dan, rising from the couch. "Really?"

 "Really."

 The others stirred from their rooms, attracted by the voices. Old Beatles rose from Lance's room despite the late hour. Mike felt Gil's tension.

 "Why the sudden change?" asked Lance from his door.

 "I found what I wanted," Gil said, his voice cracking a little.

 "The shipment?" Chris asked, stepping out from the direction of the bathroom. She looked more awake than the others.

 "And signs of Buckingham," Gil said through gritted teeth.

 "What?" Mike exploded. "Where did you see him?"

 "I didn't see him. Only his shadow and his touch at the warehouse where your van is kept."

 "Our van?" Lance said.

 "Nothing has been damaged," Gil said, stepping forward to put a packet of dope down on the coffee table. "Take this. Celebrate tonight."

 Dan lifted the packet with two fingers. "Acid?"

 "Perhaps the best ever manufactured," Gil said. "I've taken the liberty of bringing your van here. Feel free to use it and go where you want. But for safety's sake, keep to the fringes of the city."

 "Go where?" Lance asked, his puzzled expression reflecting those of the others. Mike studied Gil's face, wondering why they'd been set free, but said nothing.

 "I know where to go," Dan said grinning, as he picked through the compressed tabs. "I know the perfect place for a trip."

                                                                   ***********

 Mike knocked.

 "Enter," Gil growled gruffly.

 Mike twisted the handle and found the door unlocked-- no guards up or down the dark planked walkway in either direction. Gil sat on the couch off in the northern corner of the room, away from the now-dark desk or the fireless hearth. A dim lamp glowed over his shoulder, emphasizing his rigid face.

 "It's you," Gil said, his pistol falling limply to his lap.

 "You expected someone else?"

 "Yes."

 "Buckingham?"

 "He's here in my city," Gil mumbled. "And it can only be for one reason."

 Mike eased in and locked the door. "I think you're being paranoid," he said. "Buckingham can't get you in this place."

 "But he was here already."

 "What!" Mike said alarmed. "When?"

 "Tonight. Just after dark. At least my guards saw someone near the perimeter."

 "It might have been Demetre."

 "Maybe. But Buckingham was at the warehouse, searching through the van."

 "What for?"

 "The shipment."

 "The shipment was in the van?" Mike said in disbelief.

 "Yes. I suspected as much. Buckingham or Demetre put it there."

 "Demetre never got near the van in Albuquerque," Mike said, flopping into an armed chair across from Gil.

 "Then it was Buckingham."

 "Why?"

 Gil shrugged. "Perhaps he needed a means of transport or wanted to set a trap for me. I've made mistakes with him. I presumed his primary interest was in the drugs. I've pain for those mistakes. I lost three good men tonight."

 "Dead?"

 "Slaughtered. In a trap I think was meant for me."

 "Damn!" Mike said. "Is that why you're letting us go?"

 "Only partly," Gil said. "Bringing all of you here was one of my mistakes. I trust you, but I'm not sure of the others, and I've exposed by whole operation to them. Things must be changed rapidly, a new operation established. Have the others gone out?"

 "Except for Marie."

 "Good. They will distract attention away from what I am doing. Demetre and Buckingham will watch them."

 "You think they'll be hassled tonight?"

 "I suspect not," Gil said. "They will be watched to see who they contact."

 "But they won't contact anyone; they'll be tripping."

 Gil smiled. "But those who watch won't know that. Every move will have significance, creating false leads and dead ends. But in the morning, I think the police will make a move. It would be wise if you did not leave with them."

 "But I need to get to L.A."

 "There are other ways."

 "Maybe," Mike said. "But Dan has contacts."

 "Then meet them later-- if they survive."

 Mike pondered this. "I suppose I'll have to," he said rising.

 "One more thing," Gil said. "Did anyone leave your apartment tonight?"

 Mike frowned. "Not that I know of, but I wasn't keeping guard. Why?"

 "One of our vehicles was stolen. We found it about a mile from here, dumped into a ditch."

 "Kids?"

 "Maybe. But it seems too much of a coincidence. But go get some sleep. If I don't see you in the morning, I'll have a vehicle left behind the house for your use.  But don't leave town with it. Just park it somewhere we'll find it later."

 

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