“Unless you’re a senator or a titan of industry,” said Danny. “Then you can order what you want off a menu, just like going to a restaurant. They take you out to an electric feeder where the game of your choice eats every day, and you execute the animal while he’s having dinner.”
“Real sporting, huh?” Carl said. “It’s like hunting in a zoo.”
“Pathetic,” Jordan said. “You see how those deer run when we roar over them? That’s exactly how people run from choppers in some countries I’ve been to. Only slower.”
“Yeah,” Carl said, his voice suddenly somber. “I’ve seen that myself.”
“Is that the way Valhalla is run?” Caitlin asked. “Like a hunting zoo?”
“For the customers, yeah. But the owners do some crazy stuff, like the spear hunting.”
“There are politicians who have wet dreams about being asked down to those camps for a weekend,” said Danny. “They’ve got chefs and waiters and whores on call for those boys. It’s redneck heaven down here.”
“And Sheriff Ellis is tight with the owners?” Caitlin asked.
Carl nodded. “The sheriff’s okay. He’s a redneck, but he’s basically a decent man.”
“Are we getting close to the X?” Caitlin asked.
“Not long now,” Danny said. “This map wasn’t exactly drafted by the U.S. Geological Survey.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
The pilot laughed, then looked over his shoulder at Caitlin. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. “You ladies going to let us in on what’s supposed to be waiting under that X?”
Caitlin felt a chill of suspicion.
“It’s not Jean Lafitte’s pirate treasure, is it?”
“How did you know?” Jordan said with a laugh. “If it’s there, we’ll cut you in for five percent.”
Carl laughed. “I think this chopper rates a four-way split, don’t you?”
Caitlin forced herself to laugh, but she wondered how the pilot would react if they actually discovered the Bone Tree this morning. As a young black man, Carl obviously sympathized with her cause, but Sheriff Ellis wasn’t going to be happy to have his county become the new epicenter of civil rights cases that would draw the attention of the whole world.
Out of nowhere, an image of Tom Cage rose in her mind. Without intending it, Caitlin prayed as she never had before. She prayed for Tom’s deliverance, of course, but more than that, she prayed that Penn would never discover that she’d known where Tom was and kept it from him.
She started as Jordan’s hand fell on her knee.
“I’m okay,” she said, looking up at her new friend. “Just a little airsick.”
Jordan smiled, but she wasn’t buying it.
CHAPTER 54
WALT STOOD WITH his back to the wall of the rearmost upstairs bedroom of the Bouchard lake house and listened to the muted hum of voices from the deck. Only a glass door covered by a curtain separated him from Knox and Ozan now. He had accomplished a minor miracle in getting this far. After the Redbone arrived, Walt had put on some rough clothes he’d found in the neighbor’s house, then crossed the open ground wearing a gardener’s cap and gloves and carrying a short shovel. Once he’d gained the house undetected, he’d quickly searched the garage. After determining that Tom wasn’t inside Ozan’s pickup truck, Walt had taken out his pistol and begun searching the house, room by room.
With every room he cleared, the embers of hope in his heart burned lower. After ten minutes, he found himself standing here, in the final room, which was as empty of human beings as the others. This huge house contained only Walt Garrity, while Forrest and Ozan talked in low tones on the deck. Walt clenched his pistol against his chest and tried to make out what the men were saying.
He couldn’t do it.
Unless he put his ear to the glass window, there was no point in even trying. His only hope now was to confront the bastards directly. At two to one, the odds were against him, but he’d faced worse as a Texas Ranger. Much worse, in fact, and he’d survived.
Truth be told, the safest plan would be to shoot Ozan outright and then force Knox to give up Tom’s location. But if he did that, he’d have little choice but to finish off Knox as well. Both men certainly deserved to die, but Walt found the idea of blowing Ozan away without any warning more difficult than he would have expected. Perhaps he could get the drop on them so cleanly that they wouldn’t go for their weapons. . . .
“No,” he whispered. “Right now, I’m Tom’s only chance.”
Walt edged over to the window, where a thin crack of light offered a view of the deck. He could just make out Ozan standing in profile, while Forrest remained out of sight. Throwing open the door before firing was out of the question, a sucker’s play. Better to slide the curtain aside and fire through the glass—multiple times, if necessary.
Walt tried to calm himself the way he did before shooting at a distant deer. But no matter what he did, his heartbeat grew louder, and his ears began to pound.
One shot, he thought, focusing on Ozan’s brick-colored face. For all I know, Tom is dead already, and that bastard killed him. . . .