“A lot of people know about the Lulabelle?”
“My secret as far as I know. But who knows what a desperate man coming out of that desert to the west might stumble onto? Especially if he’s savvy to begin with and maybe got a desert angel sitting on his shoulder to boot.”
“Los Angeles del Desierto?” I said.
“Got no idea what you’re talking about,” Sylvester said. “But I’ll give you the coordinates for the Lulabelle, if you want them.”
He wrote with a pencil on a slip of paper.
“How do you keep so cool in here?” I asked.
“Adobe,” he said. “There’s a reason the people of this desert been building with it for centuries. And them rocks behind the house, they give shade all afternoon. At night, I open the place up and let it cool down, then seal it back up in the morning. Kind of like living in a cave. Or a mine. Feels pretty familiar to me. I gave you something, mister, but I want something in return.”
“What?”
“A promise. When you find who you’re looking for, you keep him safe.”
“Done,” I said and held out my hand.
I walked down the hill into Sulfur Springs, through the sparse shade of what in the desert passed for trees. The heat made me tired. I wouldn’t have minded just curling up somewhere for a nap until things cooled off. But there was much to do.
I’d had my cell phone off all morning. I turned it on to check if I’d had any messages. I saw that Michelle Abbott had tried me, twice. I called her back.
“You tried to reach me,” I said.
“I heard about Rainy,” the minister said. “I’m so sorry, Cork.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“A prayer wouldn’t hurt.” I meant it, but it probably didn’t come out that way.
“I’ll do that. Look, I know you must be worried. Would you like some company?”
“I’m fine, really. And thank you.”
“Any word?”
“Not yet.” I hated lying to a woman who’d been kind to us and in doing so might even have put herself in harm’s way, but what could I say that wouldn’t put her in more danger?
“Promise me you’ll call if you need anything. Or if you hear anything.”
“It’s a deal.”
She was quiet a long time on her end.
“Michelle?” I said. “You still there?”
“Just saying that prayer I promised you. Please, please be careful, Cork.”
The sun was well above the Coronados now. The turnoff for the Old Douglas Road was another quarter mile north. I punched in a number on my cell phone. When the line picked up on the other end, I said, “Old Turtle, I need wings.”
CHAPTER 18
* * *
I’d become familiar with the back road out of Sulfur Springs, a snaking byway that rose and dipped among the desert swales. Beyond the trailer community that called itself Paradiso, it became a solitary stretch. I hadn’t seen any sign of life along there at all, except for Sprangers and the other Border Patrol agents we’d encountered on our first day in Coronado County. And the circling vultures.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a black pickup truck a couple of hundred yards back, coming up on me fast. I’d turned off my cell phone, but because of the transmitter I’d found, that didn’t mean I wasn’t being followed. I made sure the Winchester and the box of cartridges were in easy reach. I maintained my speed, mindful of the curves and dips in the road ahead, and keeping a watchful eye on that approaching vehicle. As it neared, it pulled to the left to pass. The sun glared off the windshield so that I couldn’t see inside the cab. The pickup didn’t slow as it came abreast, and I finally saw the driver and the single passenger. They were both Hispanic, with thin black beards carefully sculpted along their jawlines. They paid me no attention at all as they passed and then disappeared over the rise ahead. When I crested that hill, I caught sight of the tail end of the pickup vanishing over the next.
I let myself relax and returned to thinking about the flight I was going to make with Jocko. I figured we’d buzz Sylvester’s Lulabelle Mine. Although he hadn’t said it outright, I was pretty sure the old prospector considered the Lulabelle a good bet if Peter had been seeking sanctuary.
I was deep in thought when I came over the next rise. Blocking the road ahead was the black pickup. I hit the brakes and came to a stop fifty yards shy of the truck. The two men were no longer inside. They stood in front of it with what looked like assault rifles cradled in their arms.
I shifted into reverse and started to back up fast. Over the rise behind me appeared a black SUV, blocking any retreat in that direction. I killed the engine, grabbed the Winchester and box of shells, and lit out for cover.
An upthrust of yellow rock lay north of the road, maybe fifty yards. High ground. I made for it as fast as I could. I expected the assault rifles to open up on me any second, but nothing happened. I clambered up the rise, lay flat, and took stock. The SUV had come to a halt behind my pickup. The two men inside met up with the guys from the first vehicle and held a little war council. I took the opportunity to fill the Winchester’s magazine with cartridges.
The four men separated, one flanking me far to the left and one to the right. The other two stayed central. Those two came slowly up the rise, staying to cover as much as possible. They stopped a good thirty yards out, behind thick cactus cover. The men on the flanks kept moving.
“Hey, mister,” one of the men below me shouted in a heavy accent. “We only want to talk.”
“So talk.”
“Give us the answer to one question, and we will leave you alone, promise.”
“What’s the question?”
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Where is he?”
The two men on the flanks were drawing even with me. I took aim and sent a round near the man to the right, and then did the same with the guy to the left. They both hit the ground. I saw movement behind the cactus in front of me, but couldn’t see exactly what that duo was up to.
“You come any nearer, any of you, and I’ll put a bullet in you,” I called. “That’s my promise.”
I saw the man to the right leap up and dash for higher cover. Prone as I was, I couldn’t get a good shot off quickly. I glanced east. That guy rose to make a run. I swung around, took aim, and caught him just as he started to drop for cover.