Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [121]
Jaime saw me move, but too late. As he started to swing his gun around, the hard ivory ball slammed into his temple with a resounding crack. His eyes rolled up; he went to his knees, losing his grip on the Magnum, then fell sideways.
Hy leaped for the bar, grabbed one of the guns; I went for the other. He picked up Mourning and slung him over his shoulder. There was noise in the other part of the house now— running footsteps. Salazar’s voice called out in Spanish.
We plunged through the door, ran across the patio and down the path. Veered off and zigzagged through the agaves toward the beach.
As we slid down the sandy slope, Hy gasped, “Jesus, McCone, not only’re you playing in the majors but you throw one mean fastball!”
Thirty
Monday, June 14
12:17 A.M.
When we got to the car, all was quiet except for a dog barking somewhere down the road. Salazar hadn’t followed us, and no one had come out of any of the other villas. Still, my heart beat fast and I had to fight off nausea every time I pictured the bullet shattering Navarro’s skull.
Forcing the horrible image from my mind, I opened the door to the backseat of the Seville. As Hy laid Mourning on it, Tim grunted and then fell silent—in shock, I supposed. I got my jacket out of the trunk and started to hand it to Hy. “Better wrap this around him.”
He didn’t reach for it, just stood pressing his hand to his wounded arm. When he removed it, it was streaked with blood. “Damned thing’s opened up,” he said.
“Do you have anything in your bag that you can use as an extra bandage?”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry—it’s not that serious.” He took the jacket from me and arranged it over Mourning. “You better drive, though.”
I got behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and mirrors, and started the engine. Hy climbed into the passenger seat. Without lights, I coasted onto the road and turned toward the village. Hy twisted around and looked behind us. “Fontes’s front yard is all lit up, but the auto gate’s still closed.”
I flicked on the headlights and speeded up. Soon we entered the village. No police in evidence, no other activity. Its sidewalks were deserted, the lights of the shops muted. Only the stock-brokerage’s sign flashed; trading was up on the London exchange. I drove slowly, carefully, to the main highway. Turned north and pressed down on the accelerator.
Hy had turned to look at Mourning.
I asked, “How’s he doing?”
“Asleep or passed out. Just as well.”
“For now—but is he going to be able to make the crossing?”
“He’ll make it,” Hy said grimly.
For a while we drove in silence. Then he asked, “So what d’you want to do when this is over?”
“Sleep.”
“No, seriously …”
“Climb into the Citabria and fly away.”
“Where?”
“Anyplace where it’s quiet and relatively deserted. And for a good long time.”
“What about All Souls?”
All Souls! In our catching up, somehow I’d neglected to tell him what was going on there. “It’s not an issue,” I said. “I don’t work there anymore.”
“What?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “They were going to force me into a desk job—a promotion, they called it. I hated the idea, but was considering it because I didn’t want to leave. Then before I could give them an answer, I took off to look for you. They found out, so here I am—unemployed.”
“My fault.”
“Why? I knew what I was doing. And maybe it’s not such a bad thing, in the long run. Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“That’s what I said before I went to talk with Renshaw.”
Again we fell silent. The lights of Ensenada appeared, then receded in the rearview mirror. Traffic was light; I kept an eye out for a tail or a police car. Kept my speed down close to the limit.
Mourning stirred, then struggled to sit up. “Got to puke,” he muttered.
I pulled the car onto the shoulder, and Hy went to help him. After a while they returned, Mourning looking better.
“Tim,” I said as he settled into the backseat, “do you know what kind of drug they