CHAPTER
6
THE FBI VAN PARKED ON THE APRON OF CONCRETE between the highway and the fuel pumps was equipped with high-tech paraphernalia used for deployment, surveillance, and communication. It was a rolling command post out of
Midland-Odessa that had been mobilized and driven to
Rojo Flats. It had arrived within minutes of Galloway's chopper from Fort Worth.
There wasn't an airstrip in the immediate area that would accommodate an airplane larger than a crop duster. Dendy's private jet had flown to Odessa, where a charter helicopter had been standing by to whisk him to the small town. Upon his arrival, he had barged his way into the van, demanding to know exactly what the situation was and how Galloway planned to remedy it.
Dendy had made a general nuisance of himself, and
Galloway had had all he could stomach of the millionaire even before Dendy began grilling him over the maneuver presently under way.
Every eye was on the television monitor, which was
transmitting a live picture from a camera outside. They watched Cain enter the store, where he stood with his back to the door for a time before disappearing from view.
"What if it doesn't work?" Dendy asked. "What then?"
" 'What then' will depend on the outcome."
"You mean you don't have a contingency plan in place?
What kind of outfit are you running here, Galloway?"
They squared off. The other men in the van stood by expectantly, waiting to see who detonated first, Dendy or
Galloway. Ironically, it was a statement from Sheriff Marty
Montez that defused the explosive tension.
He said, "I can save you both the suspense and tell you right now that it's not going to work."
As a courtesy—and also a smart diplomatic move— Agent Galloway had invited the county sheriff to join the top-level powwow.
"Doc's no fool," Montez continued. 'You're asking for trouble, sending that rookie in there."
"Thank you, Sheriff Montez," Galloway said stiffly.
Then, as though Montez's statement had been prophetic, they heard gunshots. Two came a millisecond apart, one more several seconds later. The first two caused them all to freeze in place. The third galvanized them.
Everyone inside the van went into motion and began speaking at once.
"Christ!" Dendy bellowed.
The camera was showing them nothing. Galloway grabbed a headset so he could hear the communiques between the men in position in front of the store.
"Were those gunshots?" Dendy asked. "What's happening,
Galloway? You said my daughter wouldn't be in any danger!"
Over his shoulder, Galloway shouted, "Sit down and be
quiet, Mr. Dendy, or I'm going to have you physically removed from this van."
"If you fuck this up, I'll have you physically removed from this planet!"
Galloway's face turned white with wrath. "Careful, sir. You just threatened the life of a federal officer." He ordered one of his subordinate agents to remove Dendy.
He needed to know immediately who inside the store had fired at whom and whether anyone had been injured or killed. While he was trying to find out, he didn't need
Dendy yelling threats at him.
Dendy boomed, "Like hell I'm leaving!"
Galloway left the overwrought father to his subordinates and turned back to the console, demanding information of the agents outside.
Tiel had watched with disbelief as Dr. Scott Cain yanked a pistol from an ankle holster and pointed it at Ronnie.
"FBI! Drop the weapon!"
Sabra had screamed.
Doc had continued to swear at Cain. "All this time we've been waiting on a doctor!" he shouted. "Instead we get you! What kind of stupid stunt is this?"
Tiel had surged to her feet, begging, "No, please no.
Don't shoot." She had feared she was about to see Ronnie
Davison blown away right before her eyes.
"You're not a doctor?" the frantic young man had shrieked. "They promised us a doctor. Sabra needs a doctor."
"Drop your weapon, Davison! Now!"
"God dammit, all this time's been wasted." The veins in
Doc's neck had bulged with anger. If the agent hadn't been holding a pistol, Tiel guessed that Doc would have taken him by the throat. "That girl's in trouble. Life
threatening trouble. Don't any of you federal bastards get it?"
"Ronnie, do as he says," Tiel had implored. "Surrender.
Please."
"No, Ronnie, don't!" Sabra had sobbed. "Daddy's out there."
"Why don't you both put down your pistols." Although
Doc's chest had been rising and falling with agitation, he had regained some composure. "Nobody has to get hurt.
We can all be reasonable, can't we?"
"No." Ronnie, resolute, had clutched the pistol grip tighter. "Mr. Dendy will have me arrested. I'll never see
Sabra again."
"He's right," the girl had said.
"Maybe not," Doc had argued. "Maybe—"
"I'm giving you to the count of three to drop your weapon!" Cain had shouted, his voice cracking. He, too, it seemed, was cracking under pressure.
"Why'd you have to do this?" Ronnie had yelled at him.
"One."
"Why'd you trick us? My girlfriend is suffering. She needs a doctor. Why'd you do this?"
Tiel hadn't liked the way Ronnie's index finger was tensing around the trigger.
"Two."
"I said no! I won't give her up to Mr. Dendy."
Just as Cain had shouted "Three" and fired his pistol,
Tiel grabbed a can of Wolf brand chili from the shelf nearest her and clouted him over the head with it.
He had dropped like a sack of cement. His shot went wide of his target, which had been Ronnie's chest, but it came within a hair's-breadth of Doc before striking the counter.
Reflexively Ronnie had fired his gun. The only damage
that bullet did was to knock a chunk of plaster out of the far wall.
Donna had screamed, hit the floor, and covered her head with her hands, then continued screaming.
In the resulting confusion, the Mexican men had surged forward, nearly trampling Vern and Gladys in their haste.
Tiel, realizing that they intended take the agent's pistol, had kicked it beneath a freezer chest out of reach.
"Get back! Get back!" Ronnie had shouted at them. He fired again for emphasis, but aimed well above their heads. The bullet pinged into an air-conditioning vent, but it stopped their rush toward him.
Now they all remained in a frozen tableau, waiting to see what happened next, who would be the first to move, to speak.
It turned out to be Doc. "Do as he says," he ordered the two Mexicans. He held up his left hand, palm out, signaling them to move back. His right hand was clamped over his left shoulder. Blood leaked through his fingers.
"You're shot!" Tiel exclaimed.
Ignoring her, he reasoned with the two Mexican men, who were obviously reluctant to comply. "If you go charging through that door, you're liable to get a belly full of bullets."
The language as well as the logic escaped them. They understood only Doc's insistence that they remain where they were. They rebuked him in rapid-fire Spanish. Tiel picked up the word madre several times. She could only imagine the rest. However, the two did as Doc asked and skulked back to their original positions, muttering to each other and throwing hostile glares all around. Ronnie kept his pistol trained on them.
Donna was making more racket than Sabra, who was
clenching her teeth to keep from crying out as a labor pain seized her. Doc ordered the cashier to stop making the god-awful noise.
"I'm not gonna live to see morning," she wailed.
"The way our luck's going, you probably will," Gladys snapped. "Now shut up."
As though her mouth had been corked, Donna's crying ceased instantly.
"Hang in there, sweetheart." Tiel had resumed her place at Sabra's side and was holding her hand through the contraction.
"I knew…" Sabra paused to pant several times. "I knew
Daddy wouldn't leave it alone. I knew he would track us down."
"Don't think about him now."
"How is she?" Doc asked, joining them.
Tiel looked at his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head. "The bullet only grazed me. It stings, that's all." Through the tear in his sleeve, he swabbed the wound with a gauze pad, then covered it with another and asked Tiel to cut off a strip of adhesive tape.