He didn’t have an answer for that.
“Anyone who was in the cabin Sunday could have told James and Williams to look for Josie and me out on Highway 1, could have tipped them to what we were planning. Truth be told, I suspected it was Claire. Turns out I was wrong about her. Well, at least wrong about that. Anyway, only you, Josie, Roy, and Jill could have told Brand that Roy and I would be out of the cabin checking on the remote vault—giving him plenty of time to settle in and wait for us Monday night, taking us by surprise when we arrived. I eliminated the others when I had Josie call and tell you we were stopping at Buckman’s on our way back from the Cities. Deputies James and Williams pulling us over last night, telling us they knew exactly where we were going and that Brand was waiting for our arrival—that pretty much settled it.”
“No, Dyson, please.”
“Only one person knew our plans. Only one.”
“Dyson…”
“That’s why you’re here, old man. If something goes wrong with your friends, I’m going to make sure it goes wrong for you, too.”
“Stop saying that. They’re not my friends.”
“If you say so.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly. James and Williams scared the hell outta you. Dying in prison—you hadn’t actually thought about the possibility until they pulled you over, and I believe the idea really messed with your head. The thing is, though, the thing that pisses me off, is that you didn’t take the hint. You didn’t quit. You didn’t ask the other Iron Range Bandits to quit, either. Yeah, you’re afraid of prison. You’re afraid of being poor, too, afraid of ending up like the friend you told me about. So you kept thieving until this job came along and you saw a way to get what you needed for yourself even if it cost the others. That’s why you made a deal with the deputies and with Brand. If I’m mistaken, tell me.”
“The others wouldn’t have been hurt.”
I flashed on Josie’s encounter with Deputy Williams. “If you say so.”
“Besides, you said it was okay to look out for yourself. On the deck, you said…”
For the first time since I arrived in the northland, I lost my temper.
“It’s your family, you sonuvabitch,” I shouted. “It’s your son and daughter, your niece and nephew, and all the people they love. You take care of yourself only after you take care of them. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“I couldn’t think of no other way.”
“Then you didn’t think hard enough.”
“Dyson—”
“Don’t talk anymore.”
“You don’t know what it’s like getting old and havin’ nothin’.”
“I’m serious, old man. Not another word.”
He didn’t speak, but he made a lot of breathing sounds meant to convey the emotional anguish he was suffering. I ignored him the best I could until we pulled into the parking lot of Norman’s One Stop and Motel off Highway 53. It was part motel, part Clark gas station—another business built to resemble a log cabin.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Stay here. Or leave. I don’t care.” I made a production out of removing the key from the ignition so he knew if he left he’d be doing it on foot. “Look, old man,” I said—a parting shot. “I haven’t said anything to your family, and I’m not going to. I’ll leave it to you to decide what’s best.”
I left the Cherokee, walked inside Norman’s One Stop, and was immediately surrounded by bait, tackle, sweatshirts, ball caps, automotive supplies, toiletries, soft drinks, and snacks. In the center of the snack area near the ceiling-high cooler was a metal patio table with a glass top surrounded by matching chairs, all white. Seated at the table were two men dressed as if they were refugees from a fishing camp. Despite their attire, though, you could tell they were city boys.
“How’s the time?” I asked.
“You should be fine,” Bullert said. “County Highway 23 is just down the road. Once you reach it, it should take no more than half an hour to get to the seaplane base. I just got word. The Mexicans landed five minutes ago.”
“Are your people in place?”
“They are. On land and sea. Don’t look for them, McKenzie.”
“I know how it works.”
While we spoke, the second man rose from his chair and began to unbutton my shirt. I wasn’t offended. Instead, I spread my arms wide to give him ample room. He taped a green body bug about the size of an iPod to the side of my rib cage and ran the foot-long wire antenna up my back.
“It’ll pick up sound from twenty feet away,” the tech said.
“What about range?”
“Don’t worry, McKenzie,” Bullert said. “We’ll hear you fine.”
“If I’m frisked?”
“We’ll come to your rescue.”
“In the nick of time? Just like the cavalry?”
“Just like.”
“I hope so.”
Bullert patted my shoulder as I finished rebuttoning my shirt. “When this is over, drinks are on me.”
