Rayfield stared straight ahead. “This is a big mistake. We’re taking all the risks here.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“If we get the letter that Harms filed, along with Rider’s letter, maybe we can forget about Harms.”
Tremaine looked sharply over at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Harms wrote that letter because he wanted out of prison. He killed the little girl, but he really didn’t murder her, right? Well, he’s out of prison. He and his brother are probably in Mexico right now waiting on a plane to South America. That’s exactly what I’d be doing.”
Tremaine shook his head. “We can’t be sure of that.”
“What else is he going to do, Vic? Write another letter to the Court and say, what? ‘Your Honor, I wrote you before with this crazy story I can’t prove, but something happened to my appeal, and my lawyer and the clerk who got it are now dead. So I escaped from prison, I’m on the run and I want my day in court.’That’s bullshit, Vic. He’s not going to do that. He’s going to run like hell. He is running like hell.”
Tremaine considered this. “Maybe. But on the off chance that he isn’t as smart as you think he is, I’m going to do everything I can to blow him away. And his brother. I don’t like Rufus Harms. I’ve never liked the guy. I’m getting my ass shot up in Nam and he’s back in the States safe and sound, three squares a day. We should’ve just let him rot in the stockade, but we didn’t,” Tremaine added bitterly.
“Too late for that now.”
“Well, I’m going to do him a big favor. When I find him, his next cell is going to be seven feet long, four feet wide and made of pine. And he ain’t getting a damn flag on it.” Tremaine punched the gas even more.
Rayfield shook his head and settled back down in his seat. He checked his watch and then looked down the road. They were almost at Rider’s office.
* * *
Sara and Fiske sat on the leather couch while the Harms brothers stood in front of them.
“Why don’t we just tie them up and get the hell out of here?” Josh said to his brother.
Fiske jumped in. “I think you’re going to find we’re on the same side.”
Josh scowled at him. “Now, don’t go taking this the wrong way, but you’re full of shit.”
“He’s right,” Sara said. “We’re here to help you.” Josh snorted but didn’t bother to respond.
“John Fiske?” Rufus said. He studied Fiske’s features, remembering where he’d seen similar ones. “That clerk they killed was family, wasn’t he? Brother?”
Fiske nodded. “Yes. Who killed him?”
Josh broke in: “Don’t tell them nothing, Rufus. We don’t know who they are or what they want.”
“We came here to talk to Sam Rider,” Sara said.
Josh looked over at her. “Well, unless you’re gonna put on a séance or something you’re gonna have a real hard time doing that.”
Fiske and Sara looked at each other and then back at the brothers.
“He’s dead?” Sara asked.
Rufus nodded. “He and his wife. Made it look like suicide.”
Fiske noted the file clutched in his hand. “Is that what you sent to the Court?”
“You mind if I ask the questions?” Rufus said.
“I’m telling you, Rufus, we’re your friends.”
“Sorry, but I don’t make friends nowhere near that easy. What’d you want to talk to Samuel about?”
“He filed that for you at the Court, didn’t he?”
“I ain’t answering no questions.”
“Okay, I’ll just tell you what we know and then you can take it from there. How’s that sound?”
“I’m listening.”
“Rider filed it. My brother got it and took it out of the Court’s system. He came to the prison to see you. Then he ended up dead in an alley in Washington. They made it look like a robbery. Now you tell us Rider is dead. Another clerk was killed too. I think it’s connected to my brother’s death, but I’m not sure why.” Fiske stopped talking and studied the two men. “That’s all we know. Now, I think you know a lot more. Like why all this is happening.”
“You know so much. You with the cops?” Josh demanded.
“I’m helping the detective in charge.”
“See, Rufus, I told you. We got to get out of here. Cops probably on their way right now.”
“No, they’re not,” Sara said. “I saw your name in the papers Michael had, Mr. Harms, but that’s all I saw. I don’t know why you filed it or what was in it.”
“Why does a prisoner file something with a court?” Rufus asked.
“Because you want out,” Fiske said. Rufus nodded. “But you have to have grounds to do that.”
“I got me the best grounds of all: the simple truth,” Rufus said forcefully.
“Tell me what it is,” said Fiske.
Josh edged toward the door. “Rufus, I got a bad feeling about all this. We stand here talking to them and the cops are closing in. You’ve already said too much.”
“They killed his brother, Josh.”
“You don’t know if he really is his brother.”
Fiske pulled out his wallet with his driver’s license.
“This’ll at least prove we have the same last name.”
Rufus waved it off. “I don’t need to see that. You got the same way about you too.”
“Even if they ain’t in on it, what the hell can they do to help?” Josh asked.
Rufus looked over at Fiske and Sara. “You both talk real good and quick. You got an answer to that one?”
“I work at the Supreme Court, Mr. Harms,” Sara said. “I know all the justices. If you have evidence that shows you’re innocent, then I promise you it will be heard. If not by the Supreme Court, then by another court, believe me.”
Fiske added, “The detective on the case knows something is fishy. If you tell us what’s going on, we can go to him and get him to explore that angle.”
“I know the truth,” Rufus said again.
“That’s great, Rufus, but the fact is, in a court of law it’s not the truth unless you can prove it,” Fiske said.
Sara said, “What was in your appeal, then?”
“Rufus, don’t you answer that, dammit!” Josh yelled.
Rufus ignored him. “Something the Army sent me.”
“Did you kill the little girl, Rufus?” Fiske asked.
“I did,” he said, looking down. “At least my hands did. The rest of me didn’t know what the hell was going on. Not after what they done to me.”
“What do you mean by that? Who did what to you?”
“Rufus, he’s looking to trick you,” Josh warned.
“Messed with my head, that’s what,” Rufus said.
Fiske eyed him sharply. “Are you pleading some sort of insanity? Because if you are, you don’t have a chance in hell.” He watched Rufus intently. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Why you say that?” Rufus said.
“Because my brother took whatever was in that appeal very seriously. Seriously enough that he broke the law by taking it, and lost his life trying to help you. He wouldn’t have done that for some twenty-five-year-old insanity plea. Tell me what it was that cost my brother his life.”
Josh put one big hand on Fiske’s chest and pushed him hard against the back of the couch. “Look here, Mr. Smart-ass, Rufus here didn’t ask your brother to do jack-shit for him. Your brother was the one that blew this whole thing up sky-high. He had to come check Rufus out cuz he’s some old colored man sitting in some old prison for some old crime. So don’t sit there singing that song ’bout your ‘righteous brother.’”
Fiske ripped the hand away. “Why don’t you go to hell, you sonofabitch!”
Josh moved the pistol closer to Fiske’s face and said menacingly, “Why don’t I send you there first? I catch up with you later. How’s that sound, whitebread?”
“Please don’t,
” Sara implored. “Please, he’s just trying to help.”
“I don’t need no damn help from the likes of you.”
“We’re only trying to get your brother justice in a court of law.”
Josh shook his head. “I can get me justice in a court all by myself. We done overwhelmed your white asses. Prisons full of us and you just too cheap to build more. So I can get me mor’n justice in a court. Problem is I can’t get me none on the outside, and damn if that ain’t where I spend most of my time.”
“This ain’t the way to handle things,” Rufus said.
“Oh, so now you know the way to handle everything all of a sudden?” said Josh.
Fiske was growing more nervous. Josh Harms sounded like he was at the point where maybe even his brother would have no control over him. Should he make a jump for the gun? Josh was probably fifteen years older than he, but the man looked as strong as an oak tree. If Fiske made a grab and got tossed on his head, he would probably be eating several rounds from the 9mm.
The screeching of rubber against asphalt made them all look toward the window. Rufus hustled across and cautiously looked out. When he turned back from the window they all could see the fear in his eyes.
“It’s Vic Tremaine and Rayfield.”
“Shit!” Josh exclaimed. “What they carrying?” Rufus took one long breath. “Vic’s got a machine gun.”
“Shit!” Josh said again as they all listened to the heavy boots clattering into the building. In another couple of minutes, maybe less, they would be here. He suddenly glared at Fiske and Sara. “I told you. They set us up. We been sitting here jawing with them while the Army surrounds this place.”
“In case you didn’t notice, we’re not in uniform,” Fiske said. “Maybe they followed you.”
“We didn’t come from the direction of the prison. When they see the two of us, they’re gonna shoot, and that’s it.”
“Not if you give yourselves up, they won’t.”
“That ain’t an option,” Josh said loudly.
“It ain’t an option,” Rufus repeated. “They ain’t gonna let me live, knowing what I know.”
Fiske looked at Rufus Harms. The man’s eyes darted left and right. He had admitted to killing the girl. Shouldn’t that be an end to it? Why not let the Army put him back in his cage? But Mike had wanted to help him.
Fiske jumped up.
Josh covered him with his pistol. “Don’t make this no harder than it is.”
Fiske didn’t even look at him; his eyes were squarely on Rufus. “Rufus? Rufus!”
Rufus finally seemed to break out of his inertia and looked at him.
“Maybe I can get you out of this, but you have to do exactly what I say.”
Josh said, “We can damn well get ourselves out of this.”
“In about thirty seconds those two guys are going to come through that door and it’ll be over. You can’t match their firepower.”
“How ’bout I put one of my bullets in you right now?” Josh said.
“Rufus, will you trust me? My brother came to help you. Let me finish what he started. Come on, Rufus. Give me a chance.” A bead of sweat trickled down Fiske’s forehead.
Sara couldn’t even speak. All she could hear were those boots, all she could see was that machine gun, coming closer and closer.
Finally, almost imperceptibly, Rufus nodded.
Fiske launched into action. “Get in the bathroom, both of you,” he said.
Josh started to protest until Rufus cut him off and pushed him toward the private bath adjoining the office.
“Sara, you go with them.”
She looked at him, stunned. “What?”
“Just do what I say. If you hear me call your name, flush the toilet and then come out. You two” — he nodded at the brothers — “stay behind that door. If you don’t hear me say your name, Sara, stay put.”
“And you don’t think them Army boys might just want to come take a peek at the toilet, especially if the door’s closed?” Josh asked sarcastically.
“Let me worry about that.”
“Okay,” Josh said slowly. “But let me give you another thing to worry about, smart boy. You sell us out and the first bullet I fire is gonna hit you right about here.” Josh placed his pistol against the base of Fiske’s skull. “But you won’t even hear my pistol fire. You’ll be dead before your damn ears tells your damn brain.”
Fiske nodded at Josh as though accepting his challenge, which, in effect, he was. He looked at Sara; her face was pale. She leaned into him, shaking hard, trying, without success, to catch her breath, as the pounding feet drew closer.
“John, I can’t do this.”
He gripped her shoulders hard. “Sara, you can do this. You are going to do this. Now go. Go.” He squeezed her hand and then she and the Harms brothers went into the bathroom and Sara shut the door behind them. Fiske looked around the office, fighting hard to get his composure. He spied a briefcase against one wall, grabbed it and unsnapped the lid. It was empty. He stuffed files from the top of Rider’s desk into the briefcase. As the boots boomed down the hallway, he raced to the small conference table set up in one corner. As he sat down, he heard the outer door open. As he pulled a file from the briefcase and opened it, he heard the inner door start to open. He leaned back in the chair and pretended to study some of the papers as the door opened. He stared up into the faces of the men.
“What the hell — ” he started to say until he saw the machine gun pointed at him and fell silent.
“Who are you?” Rayfield demanded.
“I was about to ask you that question. I’m here for a meeting with Sam Rider. I’ve been waiting ten minutes already and he hasn’t bothered to show up.”
Rayfield edged closer. “You’re a client of his?”
Fiske nodded. “Flew in from Washington this evening on a chartered plane. The meeting’s been planned for several weeks now.”
“Little late for a meeting, isn’t it?” Tremaine’s eyes bored into Fiske.
“I have a very busy schedule. This was the only time I could meet.” He looked at both men sternly. “And why is the Army bursting in here with machine guns in the first place?”
Tremaine’s face flushed angrily, but Rayfield assumed a more diplomatic tone. “It’s not our business, Mr — ”
Fiske started to say his real last name, but then decided not to. Rufus had known these men by name. That meant these men were somehow involved with whatever had happened to Rufus. If that was true, they might have killed Mike.
“Michaels, John Michaels. I run a real estate development company and Rider is my land-use attorney.”
“Well, you’re going to have to get another lawyer,” Rayfield said.
“I’m happy with Sam’s work.”
“That’s not the point. The point is Rider’s dead. He committed suicide. Killed his wife and then himself.”
Fiske stood up, trying to make his expression as horrified as possible. It wasn’t too hard, given the fact that he was trying to scam two armed men, with two more armed men in the adjoining room. If he failed, he would be the first casualty, if Josh Harms had anything to say about it.
“What the hell are you talking about? I spoke with him recently. He seemed fine.”
“That’s all well and good, but the fact is he’s dead,” Rayfield said.
Fiske sat down abruptly, looking numbly at the files in front of him. “I can’t believe it,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “I feel like an idiot. Sitting in the man’s office waiting to hold a