as the Jag made its tight turn and came back and this time stopped.
Majestyk was running across the open scrub, weaving through the dusty brus h c lumps, by the time Renda got out of the car and began firing at him with th e a utomatic, both hands extended in the handcuffs. Majestyk kept running. Rend a j umped across the ditch, got to the fence, and laid the .45 on the top of a p ost, aimed, and squeezed the trigger three times, but the figure out in th e s crub was too small now and it would have to be a lucky shot to bring him down.
He fired once more and the automatic clicked empty.
Seventy, eighty yards away, Majestyk finally came to a stop, worn out, gettin g h is breath. He turned to look at the man standing by the fence post and, for a w hile, they stared at one another, each knowing who the other man was and wha t h e felt and not having to say anything. Renda crossed the ditch to the Jag and Majestyk watched it drive away.
It seemed easier to get out of jail than it was to get back in.
He got a ride in a feed truck as far as Junction, after walking a couple o f m iles, then sitting down to rest and waiting almost an hour in the sun. When th e d river asked what'd happened to him he said he'd blown a tire and gone off th e r oad and was thrown out when his pickup went into the ditch. The driver said h e w as lucky he wasn't killed and Majestyk agreed.
At Junction he went into the Enco station and asked the attendant, the one named Gil, for the key to the Men's Room. The attendant gave it to him without sayin g a nything, though he had a little smile on his face looking at Majestyk's dirty , beat-up condition. In the Men's Room he saw what a mess he was: blood and dir t c aked on his face, his shirt torn up the back, his hands raw-looking wit h i mbedded gravel.
It was four-thirty that afternoon when he walked into the Edna Post of the County Sheriff's Department and asked the deputy behind the desk if Lieutenant McAllen was around. The deputy, ignoring his face, asked him what it was h e w anted to see the lieutenant about.
"I want to go to jail," Majestyk said.
He waited on the bench thinking, Christ, trying to get back in. He was stil l s itting on the bench twenty minutes later when McAllen walked up to him an d s tood there, not saying anything.
"I had him," Majestyk said.
"Did you?"
"I guess you want to hear what happened."
"I think I can see," McAllen said.
Chapter 6.
GETTING RENDA to Mexico was no problem. A young guy who brought reefer in two o r t hree times a month flew him down in his Cessna, landing on a desert airstri p n ot far from Hermosillo. Renda spent two nights in a motel while the rest of i t w as being worked out. On the morning of the third day an Olds 98 with Californi a p lates and a house trailer attached--with Eugene Lundy behind the wheel and Wile y c urled on the backseat reading a current bestselling novel--pulled up in front o f t he motel. Renda, wearing work clothes and a week's growth of beard, walked ou t o f his room and got in the trailer. The Olds took off and didn't stop agai n u ntil they were on the coast road south of Guaymas and Lundy thought maybe Fran k w ould want to get out and stretch his legs, exercise a little, breathe in th e s alt air, and throw a couple of stones at the Gulf of California. Wiley said t o h im, "You don't know Frank very well, do you?"
He didn't come out of the trailer or bother to look up when the door opened. H e w as sitting in back on one of the bunks, smoking a cigarette.
Wiley said, "Hey, do you love it? I think it's great."
Behind her, Lundy said, "Air-conditioned, you got plenty of vodka, scotch , steaks, and beer in the ice box and"--he took an envelope out of his pocket an d h anded it to Renda--"twenty-five hundred cigarette money."
Wiley was opening cabinets and doors. "There's a shower in the john. Even a m agazine rack."
"Tonight we'll be in Mazatlan," Lundy said. "We can stay there or go on down to Acapulco, it's
Majestyk was running across the open scrub, weaving through the dusty brus h c lumps, by the time Renda got out of the car and began firing at him with th e a utomatic, both hands extended in the handcuffs. Majestyk kept running. Rend a j umped across the ditch, got to the fence, and laid the .45 on the top of a p ost, aimed, and squeezed the trigger three times, but the figure out in th e s crub was too small now and it would have to be a lucky shot to bring him down.
He fired once more and the automatic clicked empty.
Seventy, eighty yards away, Majestyk finally came to a stop, worn out, gettin g h is breath. He turned to look at the man standing by the fence post and, for a w hile, they stared at one another, each knowing who the other man was and wha t h e felt and not having to say anything. Renda crossed the ditch to the Jag and Majestyk watched it drive away.
It seemed easier to get out of jail than it was to get back in.
He got a ride in a feed truck as far as Junction, after walking a couple o f m iles, then sitting down to rest and waiting almost an hour in the sun. When th e d river asked what'd happened to him he said he'd blown a tire and gone off th e r oad and was thrown out when his pickup went into the ditch. The driver said h e w as lucky he wasn't killed and Majestyk agreed.
At Junction he went into the Enco station and asked the attendant, the one named Gil, for the key to the Men's Room. The attendant gave it to him without sayin g a nything, though he had a little smile on his face looking at Majestyk's dirty , beat-up condition. In the Men's Room he saw what a mess he was: blood and dir t c aked on his face, his shirt torn up the back, his hands raw-looking wit h i mbedded gravel.
It was four-thirty that afternoon when he walked into the Edna Post of the County Sheriff's Department and asked the deputy behind the desk if Lieutenant McAllen was around. The deputy, ignoring his face, asked him what it was h e w anted to see the lieutenant about.
"I want to go to jail," Majestyk said.
He waited on the bench thinking, Christ, trying to get back in. He was stil l s itting on the bench twenty minutes later when McAllen walked up to him an d s tood there, not saying anything.
"I had him," Majestyk said.
"Did you?"
"I guess you want to hear what happened."
"I think I can see," McAllen said.
Chapter 6.
GETTING RENDA to Mexico was no problem. A young guy who brought reefer in two o r t hree times a month flew him down in his Cessna, landing on a desert airstri p n ot far from Hermosillo. Renda spent two nights in a motel while the rest of i t w as being worked out. On the morning of the third day an Olds 98 with Californi a p lates and a house trailer attached--with Eugene Lundy behind the wheel and Wile y c urled on the backseat reading a current bestselling novel--pulled up in front o f t he motel. Renda, wearing work clothes and a week's growth of beard, walked ou t o f his room and got in the trailer. The Olds took off and didn't stop agai n u ntil they were on the coast road south of Guaymas and Lundy thought maybe Fran k w ould want to get out and stretch his legs, exercise a little, breathe in th e s alt air, and throw a couple of stones at the Gulf of California. Wiley said t o h im, "You don't know Frank very well, do you?"
He didn't come out of the trailer or bother to look up when the door opened. H e w as sitting in back on one of the bunks, smoking a cigarette.
Wiley said, "Hey, do you love it? I think it's great."
Behind her, Lundy said, "Air-conditioned, you got plenty of vodka, scotch , steaks, and beer in the ice box and"--he took an envelope out of his pocket an d h anded it to Renda--"twenty-five hundred cigarette money."
Wiley was opening cabinets and doors. "There's a shower in the john. Even a m agazine rack."
"Tonight we'll be in Mazatlan," Lundy said. "We can stay there or go on down to Acapulco, it's
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