Fat Tuesday(116)

"How long you been awake?" Dredd asked in a whisper. He wasn't facing Burke at all, but was standing at a window, calmly smoking, and watching the commotion outside through the cloudy glass. Burke wondered, not for the first time, if the traiteur was indeed a warlock with supernatural powers. Beyond his healing abilities, did he have eyes in the back of his head?

"Long enough to overhear Pat's recap of the situation."

"Was it like he said?"

"Exactly. I reached the cabin a few minutes before Mccuen got there and hid my boat in the saw grass. When he and I came face to face, he admitted to striking a deal with Duvall. He thought we could negotiate with him and work it all out."

"Fuck that."

"My reaction exactly. Mac's future was at stake, so he wouldn't take my no for an answer. He went for his gun. Pat had him under surveillance and had followed him there. He must have had a bead on him.

The bullet went straight through his back to his heart. Now Pat's hell-bent on playing the rest out by the book."

"He's only half your problem. Duvall is pulling out all the stops.

He's after you, son."

While appearing to do nothing except watch the loading of Mac's body into the ambulance, Dredd told Burke about Gregory's coming to the store and warning him of the gunmen who'd accompanied him.

"So what you told Pat about the two phony fishermen was true."

"Most of it," Dredd said."They were here, but they didn't leave."

The words had an ominous ring that halted any further questioning.

Burke thought he was better off not knowing the fate of the two men.

"What about Gregory?"

"There's hope for the boy. He could've screwed us over good, but he came through. I told him to hightail it, and he took my advice."

"Good." He pulled against the handcuffs."Get me out of these damn things."

Dredd turned away from the window."The body is loaded and Pat is conferring with the sheriff. We've got maybe ninety seconds to get you away from here."

"Where's my gun?"

"Pat's got it. But you can borrow one of mine."

Dredd took a Magnum.357 from a drawer, checked to see that all the chambers were loaded, scooped up a box of bullets, then assisted Burke to his feet. His legs were wobbly and his head felt like a watermelon precariously balanced on his shoulders as he followed Dredd through the misshapen assortment of rooms and out a back door.

In a toolshed, which seemed to contain every implement invented since the Iron Age, Dredd located a pair of bolt cutters and snipped off the handcuffs. He gave Burke the pistol and the bullets, then pulled a boat from beneath the pier.

"You're using up my boats like a horny kid with a box of rubbers.

At the rate you're disposing of them, I'll soon be out of business."

"I'll make it up to you, Dredd."

"Yeah, yeah, just try and not get yourself killed before you do.

The boat's gassed up, but don't start the motor until you've gone at least half a mile. You up to rowing that far?"

"I've got no choice. Remy's out there alone."

"Basile? You like that girl?" The two men exchanged a long look, but all Burke said was, "Thanks again, Dredd."

"Don't mention it. Good luck and ... oh, shit. I hate this part."

Burke slammed his fist into Dredd's chin, and even his bushy beard couldn't cushion the blow. Then as he fell backward, Burke clouted him once more on the side of the head, regrettably having to make it look like he'd overpowered him. However, he didn't hit him hard enough to cause the older man too much residual pain.

Then he jumped into the boat and pushed away from the pier.

As he reached for the oar, a shout went up and he heard running footsteps.

To hell with rowing, he started the outboard and gunned it.

As early as noon, Remy began watching for him. She had even held off eating lunch in anticipation of his being hungry when he got back and of them eating together. But noon came and went with no sign of him.

During the long afternoon, she ventured outside and tried to enjoy the first sunny day she had experienced in the swamp, but she couldn't totally relax and take in its exotic beauty because her mind was preoccupied with Basile and what could be keeping him away so long.

Sunset increased her anxiety. Like a sentinel at his post, she paced every inch of the pier. She listened to catch the sound of the trolling motor above night sounds of the swamp, which originally had frightened her, but which she now found familiar and somewhat comforting.

When dusk gave way to night, she went back inside. For added safety, she didn't light the lantern, so her vigil was continued in complete darkness. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, but she wasn't hungry.

What had happened when Basile returned to Dredd's Mercantile?

What if, somewhere along the way, he'd been ambushed by the three men who'd come to the shack last night, ostensibly searching for Father Gregory?

What if Pinkie had men waiting to attack him when he returned to Dredd's?

What if he and Dredd had been killed and no one knew where she was?

The grim possibilities marched relentlessly through her mind. Finally exhaustion forced her to lie down and close her eyes. In her turbulent state of mind, she had thought sleep was impossible, so when she was abruptly awakened, her first reaction was surprise that she'd fallen asleep Her second reaction was to wonder what had awakened her. As when she had been awakened by Angel and one of her countless men, Remy lay perfectly still, heart pounding.