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beat-up old truck like a thousand others in the area. It s stolen,
and so are the plates. The ignition key will be in it, along with a
note and a change of clothes, Levi s, blue shirt, and rancher s
straw sombrero. He s to leave his Toyota there, change clothes,
transfer the two suitcases of money to the truck, and go on in it.
After a mile he takes a road to the right; four and a half miles
farther on there ll be another road running right again, back
toward the highway. He ll cross the highway at that exit I ve got
marked B and continue on to where he ll meet you in a little over
six miles. Even if the highway is still running bank to bank with
FBI men, they ll never recognize him.
Except, Romstead said, that they ll have a complete
description of the new vehicle, including the license number, plus
the information that he s now headed north, and on which road.
When he transfers the money to the truck, he ll also transfer the
FBI s communication gear and the squealer the radio beacon ...
His voice trailed off then, and he felt a little chill begin between
his shoulder blades.
Sure he will, Kessler agreed. Only now they re completely
useless. I ve been monitoring that whole end of the spectrum with
some very sophisticated gear, and before he s even left the
highway the first time, I ll know his communications and beacon
frequencies. And from the time he starts south, before the
transfer, I ll be sitting right on both of them with a couple of wide-
band jamming signals. Communications blackout.
Man on a Leash 118
11
He d long since lost all track of time, but Romstead guessed they d
been off pavement for more than an hour now. They must be
approaching the pickup area from the back. The road was rough,
with a great many turns, and they were driving fast, bouncing and
swaying while dust filtered into the vehicle, whatever it was, and
rocks and gravel clattered against the undercarriage. The heat
was stifling, very near to unbearable. He was blindfolded and
gagged, his hands cuffed behind him, and his ankles were bound
with rope. Paulette Carmody was beside him. They were lying on a
mattress in what he believed was the bed of a pickup truck with a
steel or aluminum cover. He had raised his feet when he was first
shoved in, hours ago, and had felt the cover above them, too low to
be the roof of a panel truck. A panel would be conspicuous out
here, anyway, where everybody had a pickup.
They hadn t used the sedative drugs this time, he supposed,
because there could be no certainty he d regain consciousness in
time. They were efficient, all right; he had to admit that in spite of
the rage and the desire to get his hands on Kessler and kill him.
Sometime later today it would be seventy-two hours since they d
been kidnapped, and not once had he seen one of the four of them
as anything but a shadowy figure in a black hood; he couldn t
describe any of their vehicles, the exterior of either of the
buildings, or even the interior except for one room that would be
completely done over after the thing was pulled off.
He wondered at these precautions, since it was certain they d be
killed anyway for knowing Kessler s identity. More embroidery? A
flair for drama? Or did they think he was stupid enough to be
lulled by all this window dressing into an idiot s belief that they
would be turned loose afterward? No, he decided, it was more
likely the others had insisted on it in case he should escape, as
impossible as that might be. He didn t know any of them, though
he had a hunch that Top Kick might be the Delevan that Murdock
had mentioned, the corrupt private detective who d done a stretch
in San Quentin for extortion.
Man on a Leash 119
They were slowing. The vehicle came almost to a stop, turned,
and began to crawl, swaying and lurching over uneven ground as
though they had left the road. This continued for a minute or two,
and then they stopped. The noise of the motor ceased. He heard a
door slam on another car nearby. They must be there. One of them
had driven the deadly two-door sedan, and this was their
rendezvous point. He heard the driver of their vehicle get out and
then the sound of voices, though he could make out nothing that
was said. Then the tailgate of the pickup was dropped, and he
heard the door being opened.
We re here. It was Top Kick s voice. All out.
He heard Paulette being helped out; then they were hauling on
his legs. He managed to get his feet on the ground and stand,
swaying awkwardly and stretching cramped muscles after the
hours of constriction. He could feel the sun beating on his head
now as it had on the metal cover over them.
Pit stop, Top Kick said. You re going to be in that car quite
awhile. This way, Mrs. Carmody; nobody ll watch.
You re shore you don t need no help? Tex asked. He d be my
second choice, Romstead thought, after Kessler. Just five minutes
alone in a locked room.
Get on with those antennas, Top Kick ordered. We haven t got
all day. So they d removed them for the trip. Smart. Anybody
might notice a car with two whip antennas.
Two pairs of footsteps went away and one came back. The bonds
about his ankles were loosened so he could hobble. Cover him
while I unlock the cuffs, Top Kick said. The handcuffs were
removed and then replaced with his hands in front.
Okay, Mrs. Carmody? Top Kick called.
Yes, she replied from somewhere off to his left. They had
removed her gag. Her voice was strained, and he could sense the
shakiness under it. She was fighting hard to keep from breaking.
Keep him covered, Top Kick said, and went to get her. They
came back. Top Kick took him by the arm and guided him off to
one side. The ground was rocky and uneven. Fire at will,
Romstead. She s still blindfolded anyway.
He urinated. Top Kick led him back, shuffling in his hobbles. He
heard the rattle of tools against metal over to his right. Then in a
minute Tex said, Okay, the ears is on. You can do yore s, an
welcome to the mother-lovers.
Right. Watch him.
Man on a Leash 120
He heard the door of the car being opened. In back of him, Tex
said, Member how he said, y heah? Watch that relay when you
turn the radio on. Be sure it pulls over an holds tight as a bull s
ass in flytime before you start wirin them caps.
I know how to do it, Top Kick s voice said from inside the car.
I shore as hell hope you do, ole buddy, cause we d all go with
you. Be hamburger for miles around.
Romstead realized then that Paulette was right beside him. A
hand groped along his arm and slid down it to his. Hers was
trembling. He squeezed it. You did what you could. It wasn t much.
All right, the baby s born, Top Kick said. Put her in.
She was whispering, very softly, against his ear. I won t I
won t break down in front of these goddamned animals. . . .
Then she was being led away. In a moment that car door slammed.
The shotgun prodded his back, and somebody had hold of his
arm. He was led forward and stopped, and he could feel the car
against his right arm. Somebody was untying his ankles. In you
go, Top Kick said. He slid in on the seat. The door closed. The
handcuffs were unlocked then, and one was resnapped about his
left wrist. He heard the rattle of chain, and then the sound of the
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