CHAPTER 31

Max took two puffs on his cigar and flung it into a snow bank. He double-timed it over to his room. After all these years, he’d finally seen the stone. Seen it... changing. He didn’t want to witness that again. Maybe if he were younger. I’m an old man who has lost his nerve , he thought, and I’m sorry , folks. He fumbled with the key on its large plastic fob. Ann-Margret knew he was there. She could smell him. He heard her barking inside their room. It wasn’t her happy bark. She was anxious. Yipping, whining. Her paws scratched at the bottom of the door.

“One minute, girl. My hands are shaking.”

Absurd. Talking to a dog like she was a person. But he knew she loved him unconditionally. If he couldn’t get the Larkins to help him kill Whiteside, then he would go. Forget packing. He’d take Annie and hit the road. Enjoy what precious time they might have together before the cancer ate him up.

He dropped his room key into the snow. “Shit.”

Lights.

Flickering red beams slashed the parking lot.

Did Wyatt call the police?

Max couldn’t spot a vehicle. The lights spun around dizzily. Hitting the iced pavement, the motel, tainting the few cars left buried in the lot.

They weren’t moving on. Redness licked at the cold snow. He

walked to the corner of the Rendezvous. Shielded his gaze from the tumbling flakes. In time to watch the explosion. Flames bulged skyward. Hung there like a message from God. Burning tower—he couldn’t spy the top. The boom, low and full, passed though his organs. Down the highway the treetops combusted. A half wall of bricks caved. The carcass of a plow truck sat in silky fire.

What was there before?

A gas station ... gone.

Broken glass tinkled softly against the motel siding.

A second explosion. Deeper, like artillery. That would be the underground storage tanks. The earth shifted under Max. His cheeks smarted from the blast. Giant pillows of oily smoke stuffed the horizon. The blackened wrecks of police cruisers ... Max saw them gutted in the firelight.

How many? He couldn’t count. Flames. The poisoned air choked him.

“No,” he said.

He wasn’t looking at the fire.

It was the lights.

They came from an old ambulance parked in front of the motel.

The back doors were opening ...

A man climbed out.

It wasn’t Whiteside.

Max turned to flee.

Another man. And another who looked the same. Brothers? They’d crept up on him from behind. He tried to push past them. An arm barred his throat. A fist hit him in the stomach. Then hit him again. He couldn’t breathe. Pain cramped his ribs and chest. The thickness of his parka did nothing to cushion the blows. It only made it harder for him to move. One son of a bitch throttled him while the other struck. The puncher wore steel across his knuckles. Like shark bites taken out of Max’s torso. They added up quickly.

Flis legs went south.

The man from the ambulance said, “Put him in. Strap him down.”

“Yes, Mr. Pinroth,” said the puncher.

The two dragged him backward.

Max saw a knife scabbard hanging from the puncher’s belt.

But he didn’t need a knife.

The gunshot surprised everyone.

The puncher reeling. His face, not really there, anymore.

Max pointed his Ruger .357 at the second attacker.

Shot him. A grunt. A fall.

But Max was slow, hurting. He didn’t turn fast enough to stop the man called Pinroth from whipping the back of his head with blunt force.

A gun—?

The thought never completed. Head-to-neck, the jolt traveled fast. Max’s hands opened like a baby’s. No pain this time. The Ruger released at his side. He didn’t feel his consciousness slip. It was too quick. His window on the world slammed shut. He dropped. His chin smacked the ice.

Pinroth transferred Max onto a stretcher. Loaded him.

He strolled back into the parking lot. Two bodies down. Neither getting up again anytime soon.

Give the gray-haired writer some credit.

Pinroth picked up the eyeglasses the old man had lost in the struggle. He slipped them into his pocket. For the sake of thoroughness, he fired his Luger, pop-pop, into each of the brothers. He holstered his pistol, climbed behind the wheel of the ambulance, and drove off with their new patient.