Chapter Seventeen -- The Plodder's Mile

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ray aimed the gun at Simon, who was laid out flat on the ground face down. “Sorry you won’t be able to spend any of my money, old man,” Ray said as his finger wrapped around the trigger. Then Ray heard a familiar sound. The sirens were just over the hill.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, and ran for the truck, keys jangling in his one hand, the rifle held in the other. Simon raised the gun to shoot him in the back as he ran, but just wasn’t fast enough to get the gun up in time. He squeezed off a shot just as Ray had dashed around the corner.

The three farmers looked at each other. They were still sitting on the ground, and heard the sirens approaching. Joe dug in his pocket and pulled out the money Ray had used for bait to get his gun. He passed one bill to Simon, put one down in front of himself, and gave the other farmer one. When the money was divided, they put the bills in their pockets, and stood up to give assistance to the police if it was necessary. Without speaking a word, it was now Ray’s word about what happened to that money versus three old codgers who knew opportunity when they saw it.

Ray jumped in the truck, and sped around the front of the house, being careful to avoid the pile of three farmers. He had heard the shotgun go off again just behind him as he turned the corner, and Ray had no doubt that Simon would like to get off another shot, even if he was shooting at his own truck. The sirens were approaching from the north, so Ray punched the gas and turned the truck south. He would double back when he got to the lake exit, and then find a way to get to John Graham’s house and get the rest of his money.

Smitty wasn’t planning on a flight risk, so the sirens were wailing as a warning to the farmers to keep their hostage safe until the big boys arrived. But the best laid plans only proved to warn Ray, and when the three cop cars pulled up to the farm, the three farmers started pointing up the road. It was only seconds before Smitty realized what had happened. “James, stay here and get the story. I think we’ll speed ahead and see what kind of lead he has.”

The last car stayed and the other two kept the bubblegum machines spinning, while Officer James stood looking at Simon and friends. The conversation that ensued consisted mostly of silence and shrugged shoulders from the three.

Ray was only a minute ahead of the cop cars, and as he topped the hill, he could see the flashing lights just across the small valley. He would be over the top in just a moment, and if he remembered right, there was a fork in the road. One road led to the lake, and the other to the city. If he could get behind some brush or trees, he might be able to hide in the dark. Perhaps they would assume he had gone on to the city, and not the lake. He killed the lights.

Smitty saw the truck across the valley. Then the lights went out and the truck disappeared. He radioed ahead to the cars coming up north from the city. They were only about 5 miles out, and he quizzed them about the roads ahead.

“This is Smith,” he said. “How many roads between where we are and you are? Over.”

“Skinner here,” came the reply. “We have three turnoffs between us with the suspect in between. The lake road is over the hill to your right, farming road two miles farther and one switchback road to Ridgeway. Over.”

“Copy that.” Smitty thought quickly and made the assignments. “Stay at the switchback in case he goes straight back for the money. We’ll split off at the two roads and pursue. Over.”

“Copy. Waiting at the switchback.”

Now for the tough call. One car would go to the lake, one to the farm road turnoff. Smitty hated to chase wild gooses, idling in the car while the real action was radioed back for everyone else to hear. He sent the other car to the lake.

“We’ll see if he took the farm road, and radio back,” he said to the troops. Sometimes it was good to be the boss, because you got to do what you wanted. Smitty wanted to see Raymond Johnson’s face.

John Graham had just spent one of the best days of his life, and was determined to make it one of the best nights of his life, too. When he got home, he had no idea his best friend had been watching his house all day. He had no idea that Raymond Johnson was hell bent for leather to get to his house, ransack it at least, and kill everybody in the house if necessary. He was living so blissfully unaware he might as well have been on another planet.

His wife Reba didn’t mind the change. John had been irritable and distracted the last few days, and to hear him enter the house whistling was a nice change. She left her chores and went to the front door to greet him.

“Whistling, huh?” she said to him.

“Yeah,” John replied. “It was a good day at school. Let’s go out to dinner tonight, or maybe go see a show.”

“With what money?” she questioned him, with the same question that was always asked when either of them wanted to splurge. “Or do you have some money?”

John paused for a moment, and then realized that this was the same question she always asked, and she couldn’t possibly know about the bundle of money, unless he had been talking in his sleep again. His step-siblings used to have conversations with him when he was asleep, and they never really told him what the “talks” were about.

“Have I been talking about money in my sleep?” he probed.

“Yeah, you’ve been babbling about your billions,” she said as she poked him. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Just checking,” John said, and then he mentioned one of their favorite restaurants. She was only seconds getting her coat and turning down the crock-pot. “We can have this for lunch tomorrow,” she said.

“Look, Greg” said Paula. The red sedan was leaving the house again, but this time with two passengers. Greg sighed his relief.

“That’s good news,” he said, and then turned to Paula to explain. “I’d rather have them out of the house if this bad guy shows up here in town again.”

She nodded and then asked if they should stay at their post. Greg drew her near and didn’t bother to answer the question.

Ray had found a clump of low-lying scrub just as the road to the lake had turned east. He pulled behind it, got out the rifle and waited for the cops to top the hill. When two cars crested it, only one came toward the lake. So they hadn’t seen him turn, he reasoned, and now they were splitting up to search. So much for safety in numbers. Now Ray just had to decide if he wanted to let the approaching car slide by, or take it out as it drove up. It was a gamble he had to take, since the other car was still in sight, but now farther up the bend on the other road. He crouched down and held the gun, scoping in the driver.

They drove past and didn’t even slow up at the clump of bushes. The road didn’t go very far, if Ray remembered right, and they would soon be back going slowly and using their spotlight to check out the sides of the road.

Ray dashed quickly to the other side of the road and waited for them to return.

Smitty had a bad feeling about following the farm road. Though it had made the most sense to him at the time, his instincts said this was the wrong road. He called the car waiting at the switchback and checked on outlets from the farm road.

They confirmed that there were no other roads that split from the farm road, and right at about that time, Smitty was reaching the end of the road. There had been no outcroppings, mounds, barns or other structures to hide a truck behind.

With no reports from the forward car at the switchback, it could only mean that the truck was back by the lake.

Smitty called the third car he had left at the farm.

“Skinner, you still at the farm?”

“Roger, that.”

“Suspect is probably up the road on the east lake road. Back-up car number two.”

“Copy. Backing up car two.”

The three farmers watched the police car roll away. After it had traveled a respectable distance, at least far enough for billfolds to be too small to see, the three took the money from their pockets and filled up their wallets. Without more than another 10 words, they parted ways happy men, and a little bit richer.

Ray trained the gun on the cop car, hoping against hope that the empty truck would get the cops out of their car and make for easy shooting. The car came around the bend in the road and slowed as the searchlight played over the hillsides.

The searchlight played across sagebrush, up and down the dusty hills. Suddenly a silhouette of Simon’s truck appeared behind a stand of scrub oak. The cops slowed and pulled over by the truck. The standard procedures would be followed, thought Ray.

They did call in the truck. It was verified as Simon’s, and one of the officers got out of the squad car to check it out. Ray was trying to be patient, because he knew it would be impossible to get to the truck again unless he had clear shots at both of them. As the other cop stayed in the car, Ray began to curse under his breath, wondering how long it would be before the first cop called the other over.

Smitty was on the speaker. “Car one, stay put until we get there. Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage.”

“Copy that,” came the response from the first car.

Ray had enough experience with the police to know that in exposed areas like this, one cop would stay in the car, especially if they knew Ray was armed. So, Ray decided, it was time to play his hand, and get both of them out to be shot.

Ray drew a bead on the first cop, who was shining his flashlight up and down the hill away from the truck. As the silhouette of the light turned away and framed the cop’s legs, Ray took his shot. The 30.06 shell was loud, and found its target. The first cop was down, rolling on the ground howling as he held his bleeding leg.

This produced the effect Ray wanted immediately. The second cop hopped out to help his partner, and Ray, thinking that these guys were so predictable, drew a bead as he dragged his partner behind the truck. This one was a chest shot. Now all he had to do was go down and finish off the other guy.

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