"It worked, Jake," Texas Red said, smiling.

"Our scouts just pulled in. Raines and the c.u.n.t left the Rebels, travelin' in two pickups."

The one hundred and fifty-odd outlaws were camped along the banks of the Conchas Lake, west-northwest of Tuc.u.mcari. Jake and Red had ordered their men to keep their heads down and stay quiet.

"Which way the Rebs heading?" Jake asked.

"Scouts report they're goin' to help some folks up around Odessa. Something about settin' up outposts."

"Raines and the broad?"'

"They headed west for a time, then cut toward the north."

Jake's grin broadened. "OK. I know where he's heading, now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Back to his old stompin" grounds.

The Tri-States. Him and the c.u.n.t is plannin'

on wintering there. Bet on it."

"So we take them now?"

"No, you dummy! We send out scouts-our best people. Haircuts, shaved, clean clothes-a good appearance in case they accidentally run into Raines. But they don't have to do that." He spat on the ground.

"We can track them."

"How?"

Texas Red asked, exasperation in his voice.

""Cause, my good man," Jake said, smiling, patting his fellow outlaw on the back, "that G.o.dd.a.m.n Englishman didn't change the frequency on them bugs he put in Raines"

pickup. And our radioman just figured it out."

"Oohhh," Texas Red said. "That's slick, Jake. Real slick."

"So in about a week, we move out in teams, realquiet like. No more than four or five guys at a pop. By then, we'll have a pretty good idea where Raines and Rani is going. Then we'll just slow-like gather up there in the old Tri-States, and do it real professional-like."

"And then we kill Raines," Texas Red said.

"Yeah," Jake said dreamily. "I want you to send out some boys. Find two-three cameras and lots of film."

"What you gonna take pitchers of, Jake?"

"Raines. He thinks he's a G.o.d, so I'm gonna treat him like one."

"Huh?"

"I'm gonna crucify the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Chapter 28.

Ben and Rani stayed on Highway 41 all the way south to Highway 60. There they cut west over to Interstate 25. Just before reaching the interstate, they pulled off the highway and made camp.

"Ben?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I thought New Mexico had a lot of Indians in it?"

"Probably still does. But they're keeping their heads down. Like a lot of other Indians. You see, Rani, back when we were building the Tri-States, we-the Rebels-helped many of the Indian tribes, too. We helped them move out of and off of those G.o.dd.a.m.ned disgraceful reservations and onto better land where they could farm and build and grow. Then when the government decided to move against us, they went against the Indians first. Thousands of Indians were killed-slaughtered. Men, women, kids. It was senseless. Totally senseless. My G.o.d, but there was plenty of land for everybody." Ben sighed. "It was my fault."

"How in the h.e.l.l was it your fault!"

"President Logan had a hard-on for me.

He hated me. Just about as bad as I hated him.

I wouldn't kowtow to him; him or the Supreme Court or that august body known as the Congress of the United States. If the Indians hadn't thrown in with us, maybe there wouldn't have been a slaughter.

I don't know."

Rani smiled at him. Then she laughed. "I guess all the things I've heard about you are true, then."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I heard that when the Supreme Court ruled that everything you and your Rebels were doing out in the Tri-States was unconst.i.tutional, you wrote them a letter and told them all to kiss your a.s.s."

"That is correct. I did just that. That was after the first threat from the central government. We were not guilty of harming any law-abiding citizen. Not one. What we did was take a mixing bowl full of people of all races, all religions, and make it work. We had some of the toughest laws anywhere in the world and stuck to them. Andninety-nine point nine percent of the people of the Tri-States liked it that way. That one-tenth of one percent who didn't, left. They went back to a society where, if they stole, they usually got away with it. h.e.l.l, if they broke any law, the odds were they would never serve any time for it.

We just viewed matters in a different light, that's all."

"So the government sent troops in to destroy the Tri-States."

"Yes. And split the country in half by doing so." Ben looked far into the distance. "We will rebuild. We will rise out of the ashes and rebuild.

We've got to."

She put her hand in his and gently squeezed.

South of Albuquerque, they turned northwest, bypa.s.sing the city. An hour later, after twisting and turning and dodging obstacles in the old road, they rolled onto Interstate 40 and continued westward.

They made camp for the night halfway between Albuquerque and Gallup.

Ben had been driving the nation's highways for the past few years; he was accustomed to the strain of backtracking, detouring, and winching fallen trees and junked cars out of the way. Rani was not.

She was so tired she was trembling from exhaustion.

Ben pitched camp, made a quick supper over a low fire, and fed Rani. She fell asleep before she was finished eating. Ben led her to the tent and got her into the big, double sleeping bag. They had packed their blankets away, for it was turning colder by the day, and the down-filled sleeping bag was warmer and easier to handle.

Ben sat by the little fire, sipping hot tea and listening to the night animals prowl the land in search of food. Soon the cold drove him into the tent, to crawl in beside Rani. They reached for each other in the darkness.

Now there were two alone in the ashes.

"I would like to take a bath!" Rani said. "I feel grimy."

"Well," Ben said with a smile. "I figure it's about 30dgth morning, and getting colder.

There's a stream back a few miles. Want to bathe there?"

She flipped him the Rigid Digit.

With the silence of the Cibola National Forest their companion to the south, Ben and Rani traveled the interstate, stopping at every small town along the way. At Th.o.r.eau, they found an old service station whose tanks had not been drained. Using his pump, Ben filled their tanks and topped off their spare cans.

Both had been monitoring their CB'S, listening to the increasing chatter. Gallup, it appeared, had been taken over by half a dozen gangs of punks, thugs, and various gangs of what appeared to be Hispanics, all fighting each other for control of what was left of the small city. And ambushing andkilling anybody else who happened to blunder onto their "turf."

Rani could see that Ben was getting angry. She questioned him about it.

"I'm getting tired of detouring around street gangs who seem to possess s.h.i.t for brains."

She put the needle to Ben. "You don't like Hispanics, Ben?"

"Don't be stupid! Colonel Hector Ramos was one of the best friends I ever had. He was killed fighting the IFP. I don't like street gangs no matter what nationality they might be."

"I'm only kidding, Ben," she said softly.

"I know. Sorry I spoke harshly to you. But if I have an overriding hatred of anything in this world, it's punks. Secondly would be the G.o.dd.a.m.n liberals who made excuses for the behavior of street gangs-for years."

She looked confused.

"Liberal is probably not a word you're familiar with, right, Rani?"

"I've heard it. But I'm not sure what it means."

"It was going out of vogue about the time you got out of high school. I guess the simplest way to say it would be that a liberal made excuses for the criminal while a conservative punished the criminal. While neither one made any great effort to pursue a middle ground. Now it's too late."

"You are a confusing man, Ben. I can't peg you." Ben smiled. "You are not the first person to say that to me, Rani."

"So what road do we take to bypa.s.s Gallup?"

"We don't," Ben said, a hard glint in his eyes. "We go right through."

"Why am I not in the least surprised to hear you say that?"

"You will pay a toll," the hard-eyed young man said to Ben. "And we will take what we like from your truck."

"Oh, my!" Ben said, feigning great shock and fear, keeping his left hand hidden from the young punk.

"Do you do this to all visitors to your lovely city?"

""At's right, pops. And if they're lucky, we let them live."

Ben smiled at the street hood. "You know what?"

"I know I don" like you."

"Oohhh," Ben said. "You're hurting my feelings."

"I don' care. I think I keel you."

"I don't think so." Ben released the spoon of the grenade he held in his left hand and reached out the window, stuffing the live grenade down the front of the punk's open shirt. The street-slime recoiled in horror, tearing at his shirt in vain. Ben lifted his right hand and emptied his .45 into the knot of garbage gathered around the truck, all of them grinning andscratching themselves.

They stopped grinning when Ben started shooting.

Grenades being what they are, the punk's body absorbed most of the impact. It spread him all over the littered street as Ben and Rani raced through the punk blockade.

Ben picked up another fully loaded .45 from the seat beside him and shot at anything resembling a punk as the pickups roared through what remained of Gallup. Ben had a pile of loaded pistols on the seat beside him. Driving one-handed, both windows down, Ben cleared the streets of all living things-if they had two legs, greasy hair, fruit boots, rings full of fingers, tight jeans, and jackets with a club name on the back.

Rani spent most of her time just keeping up with Ben and screaming at him. She called him every uncomplimentary name in her vocabulary. And made up a few new names she felt applied to this particular situation.

Just outside of Gallup, Ben whipped off the interstate and roared up onto an overpa.s.s.

Jumping out, Ben grabbed his RPG and quickly inserted a rocket into the tube, and locked it in place.

He looked around for Rani.

"Stand over there," he told her. "The back-blast from this thing is dangerous."

"You're f.u.c.king crazy!"

she screamed at him.

"I believe we settled all that the other morning, didn't we?"

The street punks came roaring up the interstate in their low-rider cars. Ben felt sure the interiors would be of crushed velvet, red or black. And the drivers would have one hand on the wheel, the other holding a comb.

They came in a knot of fancy machines, hubcaps gleaming in the sunlight.

The rocket welded the first two macho cars to the concrete, those behind slamming, sliding, crashing, and exploding into the ma.s.s of burning fancy metal.