He shook his head, and I knew he was right. I’d stopped thinking straight the moment I decided to go back to that damn shower stall. And tonight I hadn’t planned anything beyond me either walking back out of the crusher building, or crawling out all busted up, or trying to take both of the McClaines down with me before I bled out on the concrete floor.
I should’ve been more like you, Spence, the way you always laid out all the possibilities before a mission, the way you looked at all the angles. “This is what’s probably going to happen,” you’d say, and then you’d tell us how to play it out. But then you’d run through all the other possibles too, and tell us what to do in every case, Scenarios A, B, C and D. Most likely to least likely. High percentage to low.
Me, I’d only been thinking what I was going to do. What I should’ve been thinking was what the McClaines were most likely to do. Scenario A, B and C at least. Then how I could keep them from doing any of it in the first place. Or how I’d better react when they actually did it.
That’s the way Pops was thinking. He tapped his finger against the face of the dash clock. 9:17. “Quit driving like an old lady and step on it,” he said. “You think they’ll come waltzing in at ten on the button? They’re going to be early. They’re going to assume you weren’t stupid enough to come alone, and they’ll want to pick their own best spots in case they’re right. So we got to be earlier. Now punch that fucking gas.”
I drove as fast as I could without spinning out on the wet roads. Pops sat hunched forward, keeping his face close to the windshield like he was searching for something in every flash of lightning. The only other thing he said before we got to the storage unit was, “You need to replace those wipers. They’re about as useful as tits on a rooster.”
Pops had me douse the lights at the bottom of the hill leading up to the crushing plant. A heavy chain hung across the dirt road at a height of three feet or so, suspended between a couple of concrete poles. “Looks like the Chinese haven’t changed it yet,” I said. “It’s only an S-hook on each end, hanging from an eyebolt.”
Pops wound down the side window, but there wasn’t much he could see by then. The rain was pounding down on the roof and against the windshield harder than ever. Just hearing each other talk was an effort.
I watched the rain sheeting off the glass with every swipe of the wiper blades, and that’s when I realized something. The trouble got started in a rainstorm, and now it was going to end in a rainstorm. How it would end was still to be seen.
After getting his face soaked, Pops rolled the window up again. “It’s impossible to tell if they’re here already or not.” He tapped the readout on the dash clock again: 9:43. “My guess is they are.”
I said, “So I drive on up, go in through the open end of the building, and hand over the money. You stay in the truck, all right? And keep out of sight. If they come back out and I don’t, wait till they’re gone before coming in to check on me.”
“Coming in to scrape you up off the floor, you mean.” He rubbed a hand up and down against his cheek. Then he picked the revolver up off his lap and handed it to me. “Go ahead and take the chain down. Wait for me to drive on through, then hook it up again. That way, if they aren’t here yet, they might think we aren’t either.”
“What’s this for?” I said, meaning the revolver.
“In case they’re out there laying for you.”
“Why would they do that, Pops?”
“Just take it, okay? Makes me feel better.”
So I climbed out with the revolver in my hand. I unhooked one side of the chain, then stepped aside so Pops could drive on through. Thing is, he kept on going. He hit the gas and away the truck went, up the road, spraying me with mud as I stood there by the concrete pole with the chain in my hand, wondering what the hell he was doing.
It didn’t take me long to figure it out. He knew the layout of the plant as good as I did. He knew how long it would take me to climb a hundred yards up that slippery road on foot. He knew he would have plenty of time to turn over the money and deal with whatever happened next. He wanted to keep me out of it. Wanted to make sure I got home again.
I went up that hill as fast as I could, but it wasn’t easy going. I kept slipping and sliding in the mud, falling down and getting up and falling down again. Exactly like in some of the fucking nightmares I have, except in them I’m always trying to save one of the girls from something. This time it was Pops, and this time it was for real.
Up near the top when I could finally see the yard I got a surprise. All the machinery was gone. The conveyers, the feeder, the washer, even the big front loader. The yard was empty but for a couple piles of rock. All this time I had been figuring I had an advantage over the McClaines because I knew where everything was. Knew where to run for cover if I had to. Where to tell Pops to hide out if he had to run.
As far as I could tell, the truck was nowhere to be seen. Nor was any other vehicle. The long metal building where the cone crusher was had a row of narrow windows up near the high roof, and in the dark I could see a light moving around inside. So either Pops was in there with his flashlight, checking things out, or one or more of the McClaines was. So I sneaked up to the building as quiet as I could. What with my footsteps squishing the entire way, I was grateful for once for the thunder and pounding rain.
The feeling I had was the same as being on patrol, Spence. That same adrenaline rush like when you come to a house that needs to be searched and you’ve got no idea what’s waiting on the other side of the door. Worrying about the guys on the stack team and wanting to be there with them when they go rushing into the unknown, but you’re on perimeter security and need to keep your eyes focused on the other houses. And all this time you’re waiting for the bullets to rip, or for an explosion to light up your world and knock you ass backward out of it.
I made my way around to the big open end where we’d drive the front loader in and out. Inching closer to it I could hear snatches of voices inside, so then I knew. I couldn’t make anything out, what with the rain banging and echoing like birdshot against the metal roof, but voices meant Pops wasn’t in there alone.