Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [136]
“That’s where I’d like to be,” Buster grumbled.
Shaw braked to a stop. “Go ahead and go.”
“I just meant it would be something nice to see.”
“Then just shut up about it.” Shaw gunned the engine and accelerated. The van jarred over the ruts as it picked up speed.
Buster clamped his lips together. The van headlights froze a rabbit in the road and a front tire thumped over it. He glanced at Shaw. In the glow of the instrument panel Shaw looked pissed off. He’d been acting that way toward him all day. Probably still steamed about the saddle, Buster thought.
He unwrapped a piece of gum, popped it in his mouth, and started chewing. It kept him from asking Shaw what in the hell the big hurry was all about.
To keep himself alert and entertained Kerney used night-vision goggles to watch Fowler, Leo’s deputy sheriff, ex-Marine sniper, one-man SWAT team, crawl toward the landing strip. In the gathering darkness, with the waning moon yet to rise, he wondered if Fowler’s effort would be worth it. Other than the officers on the stakeout there had been no hint of human activity in the valley since their arrival. Additionally, the operation was premised on nothing more than an educated guess. There was no guarantee that a plane would be landing at the strip tonight.
Fowler was good; he stayed low, used his elbows, knees, and belly, and moved to the best concealment points. Soon he’d be in position, five hundred meters out, covered in sand and grit, pricked by cactus spines, bitten by fire ants.
Inside the four-by-four Leo had his headset on and was talking with the troops in a low voice. Throughout the wait he seemed perfectly content to remain sedentary and had exited the vehicle only once to relieve himself. Kerney didn’t know how the man could sit so long without getting antsy.
So why was he on edge? Over the years he had calmly pulled more than his fair share of stakeout and surveillance assignments. He should be sitting back waiting for events to unfold, not prowling restlessly back and forth under the camouflage netting. Like a spasm the thought hit him that he had no business putting himself in potential danger, not with Sara in a war zone. What if Patrick lost both parents in the line of duty?
What in the hell had he been thinking? he asked himself angrily.
The door to the four-by-four opened. Leo eased himself out and handed Kerney a headset. “Time to plug in. Fowler is in position.”
“Let’s hope we’re not wasting our time.”
Beyond the landing strip headlights flashed into view and dipped out of sight.
“I don’t think we are,” Leo said.
Walt Shaw made a hard turn at the fence line, sped to the gate at the foot of Chinaman Hills, and ground the van to a stop. Buster jumped out to open the gate and Shaw went with him, shining the beam of a flashlight on the rutted dirt road. The recent rain had washed away all the old tracks and there was no fresh sign that any vehicles, horses, or people had passed by.
Shaw gunned the van through the gate and Buster had to pull himself inside on the run.
“We’re gonna be way too early,” he said, trying to make small talk. He’d never seen Shaw so uptight.
“Not tonight.” Shaw downshifted as the van bounced through a sandy trough in the road.
Buster put his hand on the dashboard to brace himself as the van jitterbugged down the road. Through the windshield he could see the flashing warning lights of the plane as it came over the Big Hatchet Mountains.
Shaw stopped at the end of the eighteen-hundred-foot dirt strip and blinked the headlights. The plane banked, descended, and engine noise filled the night air. It touched down, taxied to a stop, and the pilot cut the engine. Buster walked to the cargo door and cranked the latch. The hold was empty.
“There’s nothing here.” Befuddled, Buster turned and looked at Shaw.
Shaw laughed in his face and shot him twice in the chest at close range.
Through his night vision goggles Kerney watched Buster go down. In his headset he heard Fowler swear as