Hannibal is at the Gate

The back gate of Mitch's ranch.








No one is on the road, not that it is rush hour or anything. But you would think there might be a car or two... nothing.


We have the top taken down and rolled up, the cold mountain air streams in through the door openings. After we left the parking lot and hit the road, Lou insisted we stop and drop the top. Once that was done, the half-doors had to come off... it had to be. Now they sit behind our seats and the world is right once again.


After a while we see a sign for the quarry, a handful of large caliber bullet holes collected in the center. We slow as we pass. The business is abandon... semi-rusted equipment stands silent, piles of rock and soil are grouped in the yard, a couple of large buildings with every window pane broken. On the gated entrance a chain that could hold the Queen Mary is wrapped through the steel closure, a couple of large pad-locks holding it in position.


The lack of movement, of any life what so ever, gives this area a strange feel. We are both on edge, ready for anything. What we don't have is any weapons. There isn't even a tire iron in this jeep... just some stupid crank assembly.
"What do we do for weapons?"
Lou puts his shoe up on the door frame and tightens his laces. "Hey, this is your gig, not mine. What do we do for weapons?"
"Come on... you know I don't know."
He puts his foot down and straightens up in his seat. Only now does he seem to notice the seatbelt and buckles it.
"Look, these people holding your cousin, they will have guns."
"Somehow that doesn't comfort me."
"So we take a couple of guns from them. That would be the easiest way to do it."

I drive for a moment.
"You know I am not good at that part."
"Yes, Nancy, I know. I will take the guns."
"Thank you."
"Pussy."


We are going slow and still almost miss the entrance to the back gate to Mitch's property. In my memory I see the gate being on the highway. What is there is actually a dirt road through the scrub that goes straight up the side of a mountain. It is at the top of this "trail" where you find the actual gate.


I stop in the middle of the road and then back up about thirty feet. The tranny whines as we parallel with the overgrown trail.
"Is that it?" Lou asks as he stands, holding the top of the windshield frame.
"I think so." I turn and pull off of the pavement.
"That fucker goes straight up, man." Lou looks at the path as it ascends up the mountain, then down at the front hubs on the jeep.
"Is this constant four wheel drive?"
I look down at the extra shifter and read the little placard. I put her in neutral, then put the transfer case in four low. Once I am back in gear you know it is four wheel drive.
"Wow... how is that?"
Lou shakes his head, "You are going to want more speed than this to get up that hill, try second."
I go from first to second and you really can't feel much difference it is geared so low.
"Let's try it."
"If you don't have enough speed we are coming back down like a rocket, and backwards at that."
"I have seen Jeeps in some pretty precarious positions. The slower they go the better."
"That is rock climbing, Jake... this is loose dirt in spots."


We come to a happy medium. We start up at a fairly fast clip, bouncing over obstructions, slipping in spots, moving sideways as the wheels fight for a purchase on the mountainside. But upward we continue. At one point our forward momentum stops and we are just standing still, wheels spinning. I ease the wheel first one direction and then the next. Our position shifts just slightly and the tires bite on fresh ground and we are ascending again.


It is only a minute or so, but my last nerve is frazzled. We summit the little mountain and once we are on semi-flat ground I can see the gate ahead of us.

"That was fun." Lou says flatly.
Even after all this time there are moments when I don't know if he is serious or just being sarcastic.
"We could do it again if you want. I am sure the trip down will be more of a thrill."
"No... this is fine."

I pull the jeep up to the gate and then stop and shut her down. This gate is a good couple of miles from the main compound, but without knowing the situation it is possible that there might be a patrol or guard of some kind.


"Not much of a gate." Lou says, giving one of the old posts a wiggle. The barbed wire sways with the movement.
"Long before Mitch bought the place it was used for goats or sheep or something like that. But since then it has just been used for growing."
"So what is over that ridge?"


We leave the Jeep behind us and climb over the fence. The air is crisp, and aside from the light crunch of our steps on the ground, there is silence... not even a bird chirps. For someone that wasn't accustom to carrying a weapon a month ago I feel naked without one now. As we approach the ridge I follow Lou's lead and begin to crouch until we up on the ridge. We lay on our bellies as we assess the situation.


Below us is the ranch house, about a quarter mile away. Beyond this is a large barn... twice the size of the house. There are three vehicles in the space between the two. One I recognize, "Betsy", a faded powder blue Chevy that has been Mitch's work truck since it was bought new nearly forty years ago. The other two are H2 Hummers, black and menacing. There are no signs of life. Even the ranch house looks dead and lifeless.

"No smoke." I make the observation.
"Yeah, so?"
"When Mitch bought the ranch, the whole house ran off of cordwood. Hot water, heat, stovetop, all woodfired."

I look in back of the house and see the corner of an extensive woodpile that probably runs the length of the back of the house.
Lou repositions himself to get a better view.
"That is a hell of a pile of wood. I'd be it's ten or fifteen cords." He reports as he slides back over to my position. "It looks like your cousin hasn't updated."

"Mitch would never let that fire go out, even during the hottest day the fire would still be stoked for the hot water. Hell, they even keep embers glowing in the stove so they don't have to go from a dead start twice a day."


We make our way slowly down the hill, stopping and listening every ten steps or so, or whenever our footfalls snap a twig or branch. There isn't a sound aside from our descent, not a bird, not even a breeze.


I follow Lou's lead and crouch as we approach the center of the compound. We make our way around the outside of the ranch house, and then around the barn... no one.
"Looks like whoever was here moved on to another location. Is there another building?"
I look out passed the barn, "Out where the crops are there is another barn."



Lou scours the grounds, looking at everything... boot prints in the dirt, cigarette butts, he feels the hoods of the vehicles. "Looks like four or five men, one of them is a heavy smoker."
"What are you, fucking Colombo all of a sudden?"
He goes back to the hoods of the Hummers. "Stone cold. These haven't run today."
"Well, it has been a week since we got the message. The fact that they are here at all is promising."
"So now what?" Lou opens the door to one of the Hummers and rifles through the glove box. He pulls out some documents. "Rentals... out of Oregon. Melendez, that ring a bell?"
"Not with me. Could be an alias."

Lou pulls a cigar from a case he finds in there and rolls it in his fingers under his nose. He bites the end off and spits it on the floorboards. "Got a light?"
"You mean to tell me that this overgrown Jeep doesn't have a lighter?"
He pulls open an ashtray under the dash and pushes in the lighter. When it pops he puffs the cigar to life.
"Hey man, this is good... want one?"
I shake my head, "Maybe later. Let's check out the house, see if we can find out what happened."

"Wait." Lou reaches down under the seat and then is on his belly. Nothing. He checks under the driver's seat and comes up with a Glock 9mm.
"Good one, all we usually have under our seats are beer cans."
"Check the other Hummer."

The other car comes up dry. One gun is better than nothing, and in Lou's hands is probably better than two in someone elses. We step carefully onto the porch and the creaking deck boards give our intent away to anyone that might be inside. We give up being stealthy and just go in.


There are signs of a struggle, and in the kitchen... blood. "Some one was doing a little carving with this."
I hold up a rather long knife. The blood is dry, so is the small pool on the floor. On the table is a small, leathery nub.
"Oh shit, is that... "
Lou moves it with the end of the Glock, "It's a finger tip."


So we are dealing with some serious people. I look at the finger tip, at the remains of the nail. As far as I can see, it's not from Mitch. Looks like it might be from one of the farm hands. Mitch usually employs quite a few workers during harvest from a small pool of trusted individuals.


We move into each room, Lou leading with the pistol, ready to fire in case we are surprised. In the dining room, I open the gun cabinet and pull the shotgun from its place and check the load. There is a box of shells and I fill my pockets. No pistols, just a rifle or two.
"Do you think we should take a rifle?"
"Not going to do us much good close up, and that is where we are going to be if we are rescuing anyone."


The house is clear, as well as the basement. The bloody mess in the kitchen is the only thing that is out of place. We take one more look at the carnage.
"They must have surprised them in here, or that gun cabinet would be empty."
"Makes sense."
"So what were they looking for? Smoke? Money? What?" Lou walks out on the porch and I follow, jacking a round in to the shotgun.
"Harvest is over and probably gone by now, so my guess is cash."
"How much cash would Mitch have laying around this place?" We head toward the barn.
"A couple of hundred thousand I would imagine."
Lou stops and looks at me, "No shit?"
"Mitch doesn't believe in banks. They want to many explanations."


The barn is standing open. It's been search from top to bottom, even the loft has been tossed.
"Do you suppose they found the money?" Lou lifts a sheet of plywood from where it is leaning against the wall and looks behind it.
"Not in here." I look around at the destruction.
"Where then?"
"Mitch is kind of a pirate at heart."
"I think I have had my fill of pirates, Jake."
"Not like that... the money is buried. These guys are looking for the map."


After we are satisfied that there is no one in the compound we head out to the growing fields and the other barn. It is a good ten minute walk and not on property that Mitch owns. It is on government land and gives Mitch plausable deniability. Over another short hill and we can see the barn, painted in camouflage to hide it from low flying planes. Beyond this are the growing fields. Normally Mitch would be through with growing season, bailed and off to the buyers.

Past the barn are sparse trees and scrub, between which are usually hundreds of cannabis plants. Now most of them have been harvested, all but a few that haven't yet reached their peak. Behind the barn are at least fifty holes, some freshly dug, others the dirt a little lighter... drier as though they had been dug days ago. As we look on at these holes we can hear voices coming from the other side of the structure.

"You hear that?"
"Yeah, voices... but how many?"

We reposition ourselves so we can see the back side of the camo-barn. From our vantage point we can see two of the farm hands digging yet another hole. They look exhausted, as though they had been digging for days without rest. If they are under guard we can't see their captors. One of the diggers has the fingers of his left hand wrapped in a blood soaked rag. Too much blood for just the one tip we had seen at the house.
"Is one of those your cousin?" Lou whispers.
"Nope."
As if on cue we can hear a scream from inside the barn. Than a lower scream that changed in pitch and stayed there long enough to make your skin crawl.
"Jesus." I think my testicles sucked up into my belly on that one.
"Sounds like they are clipping a few more fingers." Lou checks the load in the Glock and starts forward.
"So we are moving then?"

We approach the barn on the blind side, where no one is digging or cutting off fingers. There are shadows of at least two men that must be overseeing the digging. Once we reach the side of the barn, we can hear other voices. We crouch down and find a spot where we both can view the interior of the structure through a couple of knot-holes.

Inside are three men, one of which is double over and wiping the remains of vomit off of his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. The torture doesn't seem to agree with him. There is a man, probably Mitch's ranch foreman, bound to a chair... three of the fingers on his left hand are now in the dirt at his feet. He seems to have passed out from the pain, so the man with the pruning clippers is directing his inquiry to someone in front of him hidden from our view.

"These holes are empty, Mitch. You stalling is just going to cost this guy another couple of fingers once we wake him up." He waits for a response and when he doesn't get one he backhands Mitch. A toss of long blond hair is visible for a second as the impact moves Mitch's head to the side.
"Hey... " Lou starts, pushing his face up to the barn, his eye glued to the hole.
Inside, the man spins Mitch in the chair and grabs her face in a steel grip.
"WHERE IS THAT FUCKING MONEY YOU BITCH!"

Lou backs off the hole and looks at the barn for a second, then at me. "He's a she. Mitch is a girl."
"Yeah, didn't I tell you that?"
"She's a looker."
"Yeah, well she won't be for long if we don't do something."

Her captor continues, "When the rest of my boys get back from town you better have a place for them to dig that is going to yield some cash, or I will have them bury what's left of you in a couple of those holes."

He reels back and hits her hard enough to knock her out. She goes limp and Lou goes into action. He fires four shots right through the barnwood, cutting the man's legs out from under him. Within a split second, the two men guarding the diggers come around the barn. I take the first one out with two blasts from the shotgun. The second man falls back as well. I catch him with the bulk of the second shot as it passes through his friend.

Lou is in the barn now, the man that was smacking Mitch around is trying for his gun. Lou puts a boot on the hand as it pulls the weapon.
"I don't think so."
Another shot and the hand is useless. The man writhes in agony... but he gets no sympathy from Lou.
"Where are the rest of your men?"
The man lips part and he gives a defiant bloody smile. "You are as good as dead. I... " he chokes and almost passes out, but then continues. "I have a dozen men on the way. They will kill you, all of you."
"Well, you woman beatin' son of a bitch, I guess we will have to deal with them when they come. But you, I can take care of you right fucking now."
Lou shoots him through the chest and he gives up the ghost.

The diggers are out of their holes and tending to the foreman who is still out. They thank us in spanish, kind of bowing as they talk and untie their friend.
Lou is with Mitch now, gently lifting her head, checking her wounds. "Okay, sweetie, we're here, nothing to worry about now... come on, darlin'... wake up."
She stirs, jolting with a start at the sight of this stranger. Her eyes try to focus and then she sees me.
"Holy shit, I thought you would never get here."
"Sorry, Mitch, getting out of Guatamala was a bitch. What is going on here?"
She looks at the body at her feet and then spits on it as Lou frees up her hands.
"That bastard was one of our new customers. As soon as I laid eyes on him I knew I made a mistake. I don't take on new buyers without knowing everything about them, but I got sloppy and this shit happened."
"What, what shit happened."
"He knows about the map, Jake."
Lou looks at me and then Mitch, "What map?"
"I told you... she buries her money, Lou."
"So these three guys are here to dig it up?"
Mitch rubs her wrists, "These are just the guys that came with him originally. He called in his troops from over the border."
"Mexico?"
"Oregon... he is our competition. He took my whole shipment, that is where the rest of his boys are, taking it back over the border. When they come back they are coming for the money."

The Middle of Nowhere

The middle of nowhere, Modoc County CA

As promised, Antonelli is waiting for us in the black stretch as we walk out of the Bellagio. We have said our goodbyes to Mike and Andy. We wouldn't have made it this far without them. Andy even returned the bear-hug that Lou bestowed on him. I gave Mike our address... well the address in the village that collects mail for the region. He wrote it down then held it out and looked at it like it was written in code or something. I told him it was a real address and assured him that we would be able to receive correspondance. Good guys, those two. I hope we see them again.

The three of us make the fifteen minute ride to the corporate jet center in relative silence. Aside from the greetings we exhange when we enter the stretch, we sit behind dark sun glasses and nurse the hangovers that we all try to act like we don't have. Antonelli is examining us, I am sure. He starts to smile, stops, then a wide toothy grin.

"Jesus, boys, that was one hell of a party."

Lou slides his Ray Bans down to the tip of his nose and looks over them at Chris.

"You like that, did you?"

"Hell yes... those girls made me feel like a new man."

"I heard that fancy back scratcher going on and on last night." Lou gestures at Antonelli's prosthesis.

"I thought that girl was kidding about the toe wiggling thing, but she rode it like Sea Biscuit for an hour or so. I was sure we was going to break the fucking thing. She had it in up to the heal at one point."

Lou looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

I nod a couple of times, "Very impressive."

Antonelli's G-4 is quite the toy. It was his fathers, and the interior was designed for Bear's imposing frame. It all translated into an extremely roomy and comfortable cabin. As we are seated, a pretty oriental girl that understands english but doesn't seem to speak any brings us what looks like mimosa in champagne glasses.

"Oh... no, honey, I can honestly say I don't want to see another drink for at least a day or so."

Lou shakes his head and that seems to withdraw the offered beverage.

Chris takes one off her tray. "You boys should try this. It isn't what you think." He drinks it down and sets the empty on the tray. We can feel one of the engines start.

I take a glass and give it a sniff.

"What is it?" It doesn't smell like it has any alcohol in it, but there is something more than orange juice.

"It is Agaki's family hangover potion."

"Agaki's family recipe?"

"Yep. This is his daughter, Sun."
"Daughter- son? Sounds like some kind of Kentucky family reunion."

"No you asshole, Sun... like the moon and the sun. She has been dad's flight attendant since Agaki came over from the homeland. Sun was, like fourteen or something."
I take the glass and drink the contents. Tastes a little like mango or papaya or one of those. I can also taste that sour/bitter taste of ginsing hiding in there.

Lou up ends his glass as well and we all just sit. The second engine is started and both of them are idling.

I look out the little window, then at Chris.

"What are we waiting for?"

"I am expecting a delivery."

As if on cue a catering vehicle pulls up and Sun starts carrying food trays to the galley.

"That's not it." Chris says, looking at his watch. "These people should have had this shit here before we arrived."

The food is loaded and the van pulls away.

Chris stands up and walks to the cockpit. The door has been open since we boarded. He talks to the flight crew. We see him nod and pat the two men on the back. It is plain to see that this is a tight knit group. These guys were Bear's flight crew, and by the silver hair I bet that they have known Chris since he was a little guy... if that is even possible.

After another minute or two, and at least six looks at his watch, Chris announces the arrival of the courier he was waiting for. He goes to the bottom of the steps and signs for the small package, then bounds up the stairs and into the plane. Sun stows the steps and latches the door. No sooner has she done this that we start to move.

Chris Antonelli has a look on his face that I can only assume is the same one he had every Christmas morning when he was a boy. He tears open the package and lifts out a blue velvet case. It is flat and long.

"What... did you win the Congressional Medal of Honor?" Lou says, eyeing the box as Chris lifts the cover so only he can see. He nods in satisfaction.

"Have you ever seen a Congressional Medal of Honor in a box like that?" I ask Lou... not sure if he is just talking shit or talking from experience.

"I've seen a few in my day. Known a lot of brave men, real heroes."

Chris turns the box so we can see.

"Funny you should mention heroes, boys. I had these made for you. I had one made for me too so we would all have a way to remember what you guys did for me and my dad."
In the box are three gold pendants, representations of what I can only assume is the Antonelli family crest. Set in the crest of each is one of the ten diamonds that Lou had given him only last night.

"Oh, man... those are beautiful." Lou takes the box from Chris as it is offered. Lou looks at the crest. It is just big enough to compliment the diamond.

"This is your family crest?"

"I hope you don't mind."

"I am honored." Lou takes one of the pieces out of the box and hands it to me.

"These are really something, man."

Lou takes the second one out of the box and hands it to Antonelli, who opens the clasp and puts it around his neck.

I do the same. Lou follows suit and the three of us look at the jewelry on the other.

"How in the fuck did you get these made so quick?" Lou asks, holding the pendant in his fingers.

"Don't you know who I am?" Chris says mockingly. "When you have my father's name in this town, and the money to back up a rush order like this, people seem to bend over backwards to accomodate you."

Sun takes a seat and buckles in. On that cue the pilot announces over the speaker system that we are cleared for take off. We make a couple of turns and line up on the runway, then the twin engines move us like a dragster down the runway until we feel the familiar release of wheels from tarmac and we are in the air banking to the north.

The closest we could get to Mitch's place and still accomodate a jet of this size is Alturas, California. We will be in the air for about an hour and fifteen minutes according to the aircrew. Fast little jet, these G4's. We gain quite a bit of altitude before leveling off, at which point Sun begins stowing the catering.

"What's with all the food?" I ask, knowing we wouldn't have time to eat much more than a sandwich and a beer before touching down.

"I am headed for the Caymans after this to do a little banking." He moves his chair up from a reclined position. "That reminds me."

Chris looks at Sun and gestures with his eyes. She brings him a leather attache' case which he opens and pulls out two sets of documents.

"Now... I don't want to hear any shit from either of you, or I will have my boys slow down and I will toss your asses out that fucking door." He nods at the hatch.

I look at Lou.

"Okay."

Antonelli looks at the documents, faxed copies from a bank in the Caymans. He hands me one set of documents and Lou the other.

"My father had a buyer lined up for the stones. Did you know when they say priceless... and three of the ten come up missing, that you actually can coax more money for the remaining stones out of the guys that wanted to buy them? That's some crazy shit, man. Anyway, this morning... after I got that girl off my foot, I had my dad's bankers arrange for a couple of accounts to be opened in your names. You just put your John Hancock on those papers and put some answers to the security questions and your accounts are open."

"Accounts?" I am still hung over.

"Yes a-c-c-o-u-n-t-s... jeez." He looks at Lou and rolls his eyes at me.

"Yeah, Chris, what accounts?"

He sighs and looks at us both, his biggest surprise falling on deaf ears. "The diamonds... the stones? My dad had lined up a buyer."

Nothing.

"Come on you idiots, I sold the other seven stones to my dad's buyer... well arranged to sell them. We have a certified guy right here in Vegas that authenticated the stones and messaged the buyers as their value. They went for it and now I have to fly down there and deliver them. I opened four accounts, two for you, one for Agaki's family, and the other for the families that invested in the original transaction. Their end wasn't much... my dad put most of his own funds in for the buy."

Lou and I say nothing. Chris mistakes this for us not understanding, not listening, or just being hungover like a Chinese New Year parade. But that's not it. I think we are both kind of amazed at the resourcefullness of what we thought was just a beer swilling wrench in a thousand dollar suit. This guy is his father's son. His family's operation will be in good hands.

I look at the papers and then at Lou, who sets his down on his lap. "Chris, we didn't give you those stones for any fucking reward. We gave them back to you because your dad died for them, because you went through hell because of them. Not for this."

"What are you? A goddamn saint. Shut the fuck up and sign the papers. My dad was so rich that I could wipe my ass with hundreds and not stop until that ass was ninety-five years old."

I shudder at the thought.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you guys. My old man really liked you two or he would have probably killed the two of you just for laying eyes on him. Hell, boys, I even refitted those two down in Puerto Barrios before I came up here. You know, those locals that brought me to the hospital. I bought that albino guy a new boat and set the other guy up with a nice bank account.

We both sign our respective papers, shaking our heads. It feels funny, taking this money under these circumstances. Chris sees our continuing discomfort.

"Hey, look at it this way. I am assuring that you two will be able to fly down to see me on KOZANOSTRA II any time I want. How does that sound? If you don't have to work or worry about paying for gas in that plane of yours, then you should be available, shouldn't you?"

We are finished with business and for the next half an hour or so we re-tell the tale of the desert ambush and then the party in the suite. Chris liked Andy and Mike, thought they were a little "out there" and on opposite ends of the spectrum. We relay the story about the pirates and the attack on his dad's yacht, the battled that ensued and then the final reckoning. He didn't know that Miss Abigail had done away with the Dominican Brothers. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head on that one. He was probably going to find a way to fill the void that had been left at their passing and then of their ultimate competitor Abigail.

It is about forty minutes later that we are heading down for our landing. This is the way to get from point "a" to point "b". Abby has lines, grace, and a hell of an engine noise... but this plane here is like a fucking time machine or transporter or something. It really scoots.

Even with Antonelli's vast connections there isn't much he can do for us up here in God's country. He doesn't know anyone and they don't know him. So we will have to let the dead presidents speak for us. We are pretty flush with cash for the trip just in case we have to bail Mitch out of jail.

As the plane touches down I try to get my bearings as to where we are and where the ranch is. It has been twenty years since I have seen Mitch or been on this patch of ground. When the ranch was purchased, I came in with this Spaniard named Olero or Olerio... I don't remember now. But the guy was the best around at getting your crop to produce the longest, stickiest buds you would ever see on a cannabis plant. After the first harvest I was off to greener pastures, headed south to southern California, and eventually Central America to see what I could find.

Now it is just a shady sketch, like looking at a map in the dark. I think I know where to go. I am letting the memories work the cruise control, hoping that they don't steer us down the wrong path.

We say our goodbyes to Chris Antonelli, a bone crushing bear hug remeniscant of the stories of his father. With our bond of friendship comes a protection like no other. If anyone fucks with us, Chris will have our backs. Or if the worst happens, we may never know the men who kill us, but they will know the name Antonelli and will pray for death.

The Gulfstream takes to the sky behind us as we walk to the small FBO to rent a car. It is still early, maybe ten o'clock. The air is crisp and clean and there is a bit of a chill in the air. Above us the sky is free of clouds and has that deep blue that we see beyond Abby when we are at altitude.

"Need a jeep." Lou says, gesturing at the line of four Wranglers outside of the Avis office.

We step inside and find no one. An old television plays the Price is Right, Bob Barker looks like he might have just screwed one of the showcase girls on the last break judging by the smile on his face. There is a bell by the desk and I hit the button. We hear someone call from the back and moments later a middle-aged woman in two layers of sweater and three of four of make-up comes out with a cup of coffee and a plate with the remains of her breakfast. She chews and swallows.

"What can I do for you boys?"

"Need one of those Jeeps out there for a couple of days."

"Need a credit card." She doesn't even look at us, just at Bob and the bedroom set that is up for bids.

"How about cash and lots of it."

"You're a stupid booger if you think that is eight hundred and fifty dollars, dumber than a bag of hair."

I look at Lou, he looks at her. "Hey, sweetie, we really need a Jeep."

"No credit card?" She turns and eyes the two of us, wiping her pink lipsticked mouth with a well used napkin.

"No... we lost our wallets on a fishing trip."

"No driver's license?"

"Well... we have them, but not on us. Lost wallets, remember?" I try my best smile, but she screws her face into a firm look of rejection. Lou sees an opening, for what I don't know.

"Darlin', you must go crazy sittin' here all day long. I bet you like to dance, don't you? A little line dance every once in a while, you must kick it pretty good with that cute little shape of yours."

Holy shit, what a line. This woman should really be in a bell tower somewhere, away from people who might have to look at her.

She looks at Lou and scoots forward in her chair, unbuttoning her first sweater... jutting her huge old tits out over the remains of her breakfast.

"You like to dance, cutie?" Her expression warms a bit. "There's the Saddle Horse in town, it is the only country western bar around, but they have a great dance floor."

"Do you think they will be open for some dancing tonight, say after eight tonight when we are done with our business?"

Lou leans over the counter and produces a toothpick from his shirt pocket, twirling it from one side of his mouth to the other. "I would hate to think I would miss twirling you about on that dance floor. But we won't be done with what we came here for until later this afternoon. Then I have to get back to the hotel to shower and shave. Wouldn't want to rub cheeks with a fancy girl like yourself with an unshaved face."

She blushes... it looks more like a medical condition that might require cream. "Oh... you, not so fast. I'll dance with you, sugar, but you aren't rubbing faces with me until you buy me dinner and a few drinks."

"So dinner first then, hon? About seven... I can pick you up here?"

She pulls out a rental agreement and writes a phone number and street address in the margin. "Seven thirty, and bring your dancing shoes."

A half an hour later we are idling out of the parking lot in the rental jeep. Lou is supposed to pick up this woman, Judy... she looks like a Judy, and dance the night away. I thought it was all a sham to get us the rental car, but now I am not so sure.

"She's not that bad looking. Got a hell of a rack on her." Lou says, trying to reason with himself.

"She looks like a rodeo clown trying to smuggle volleyballs out of a sporting goods store."

We look at the map that we pulled from the tourist information and then follow the road out of town. I remember a quarry, and according to Judy it is ten miles down the road. After that there is the gate to the back of Mitch's property and that is where we will go in.

I hope it is all there. We don't know what we will be facing. Don't know what the hell we are walking into. Lou will have to lead us in on a recon, just like the old days in the bush, so we can read the situation. We need guns, or knives, or something that explodes. I am not quite sure what danger awaits us, but I feel confident that the people that have Mitch are the ones that should be scared.